


Settle Down This Heart of Mine

by AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alpha Derek, Alpha Laura Hale, Alpha Scott, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Angst and Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Stiles, But It Will Take A While To Get There, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski UST, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Oblivious Stiles Stilinski, Obvious Derek Hale, POV Stiles Stilinski, Pack Dynamics, Scott Is Kind of Stupid, Sexual Tension, Sleepy Cuddles, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Somewhat, Stiles Stilinski Has Scars, The Fic Isn't Going To Be That Long, The Hale Pack - Freeform, The Pack Ships It, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-13 20:34:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20588681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle/pseuds/AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle
Summary: Stiles has magic. Scott got bit by werewolf. Things went to shit from there, and then Stiles met Derek, and things went to shit again. There seems to be a theme here, and Stiles doesn't appreciate it. At least he can appreciate Derek's eyebrows.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love two idiots in love. I love it when one of the idiots doesn't even realize it. I also love MagicStiles! and Angsty, Pining Derek. This is a two chapter fic. With the End word count being around 22,000. This is the first part. Thanks for checking it out.

Settle Down, This Heart of Mine

Chapter 1

Shit. Shit. Shit. FUCKING SHIT! Things were not going how Stiles had expected them to. Then again, it wasn’t the best laid of plans. Given the circumstances. But with all the fuckery that had occurred over the last six months, they needed answers. And quickly.

For the most part, Stiles lived a normal human life. To the outside world, he was an average child who happened to have some mild behavioral issues. ADD tended to come with that on the warning label. But spastic tendencies aside, he was rather ordinary.

That is, when he turned eleven, he learned that he could do magic. Some real Harry Potter type shit. Only, he didn’t need a wand. Or a magic spell. No fancy incantations. It came in bursts. Little moments of power that struck without warning. Needless to say, it through his father for a loop.

They were still dealing with the loss of his mother not six months earlier. It had been a long, painful path to where they were now. His mother had degraded slowly. Her mind turning in on itself. Folding over and over. Until the difference between nightmares and reality no longer existed.

Stiles could do nothing but sit and watch as the woman who had raised him turned into someone he no longer recognized. It was painful in every way imaginable. And then some. When her death finally came, there was a sick sense of relief. That at last, she was at some form of peace.

His father was another matter entirely. Much like any law enforcement official, he enjoyed a drink at the end of the day. Only, it turned into a bottle. A wash of alcohol to smother the grief that threatened to swallow his heart.

Only the whiskey turned the grief into anger. And sometimes that anger was aimed at Stiles. John, even at his drunkest, never hit his son. But that didn’t stop harsh words from rolling off his tongue. Jabs and slashes that cut Stiles down to the bone.

This continued for a month. Until finally, the endless nights of tears and heartache reached a point even the strongest of alcohols couldn’t reach. His father sobered up and went back to work. Stiles went back to school. They didn’t talk about it. Ever.

It wasn’t long after that that the magic shit started. It was small things at first. Objects appearing in his hand just by thinking about it. Or his bed levitating. Weird, ghost hunter type crap. He tried to ignore it, at first. That didn’t go over well. Especially when Scott found out.

They were barely teenagers, and horrid at keeping secrets. It wasn’t long before his dad was in on it to. There was something in the back of his eyes. A glimmer of recognition. Something that told Stiles his father wasn’t all that surprised.

Maybe it was his mother. She always did have a certain, light to her. Something that was beyond words or sense. He wished she was here to help him through learning what he could do. Because for the most part, it was trial and error. A lot of error.

Most of what the internet had to offer was bullshit. And Stiles made plenty of mistakes along the way. Nearly blew himself up a few times. Just a few though. He wasn’t really keen on actually becoming a wizard, or anything. He just wanted to see all what his powers could do.

For the most part, as he got older, the more powerful he became. There wasn’t really a limit. If he could imagine it, it could be. But as he went on, he did learn one thing. Magic always came with a price. There was always a consequence to be paid.

So, for the most part, he kept his powers under wraps. Only Scott and his dad knew. He liked to keep in that way. Even in the modern age, he wasn’t keen on the idea of people knowing magic was real. The Dark Ages, the Inquisition, the Salem Witch Trials. History had plenty of examples on how people treated what they couldn’t understand.

Everything was going just fine until senior year. That’s when he learned that magic wasn’t the only thing that legends were right about. Turns out, werewolves were to. And this one wasn’t nice. Stiles didn’t know if he had found him purposefully. Or if it was just coincidence. But he was here, and he wanted….Something.

Stiles’ magic had a mind of its own. In a strange kind of way. It always knew where people were, in a sense. He could feel if they were bad or good. If they were his friends. Or if they posed a threat. This guy was most certainly a threat.

His aura oozed maliciousness. Whatever he wanted, it was nothing good. He never approached, or tried to get near Stiles. Or his loved ones. The wolf kept his distance. Until he didn’t. When the man finally made his move, and Stiles saw his face, it wasn’t what he was expecting.

He was…Not human. Not anymore. Whatever parts of him could be called that, were long gone. It was his eyes that gave it away. There were thin little shadows at the edges. Things. A sense that all that he was had vanished. Leaving…This.

The attack came swiftly, and without remorse. Only thing is, he didn’t go at Stiles. He went for Scott. The bite was deliberate. Intentional. Not meant to kill. No, it was for something else. It was then Stiles realized what the wolf had wanted.

Wolves were pack creatures. Both natural and supernatural. This wolf didn’t have one. So, it decided to make one. And for some unknown reason, he’d picked Scott. Stiles was just the aftermath. He ended up with some rather unfortunate slashes across his chest and face.

His best friend ended up a wolf. With no one to tell him how to live or act. How it would feel. How much pain he would suffer on his first full moon. Which he spent, screaming and clawing at the chains. Stiles didn’t have another option. His best friend couldn’t be allowed to roam freely.

The wolf that turned him wasn’t exactly going to give any hints. In fact, it ran off, first chance it got. Maybe it realized the depth of Stiles’ power. And what he could do when he was pissed. Namely, how he could make Scott human again. Which was a long list of potential backfires for years to come.

Stiles didn’t care. He’d been born different. Someone who had no choice in the matter. Scott did. Stiles could give his friend that. He had it all planned out. And as usual, his meticulous, well thought plans went to utter shit.

Part of it was because he had to put Scott in a mountain ash barrier. (That was a good trick that he learned.) That, in no way, made his friend happy with the plan. Stiles wanted everything accounted for. Like if Scott went feral, and tried to protect the alpha on some weird fucked up instinct thing.

That in of itself wasn’t the problem. The problem was restraining the alpha long enough for the magic to work. Which was easier said than done. Stiles had the spell, and it did work. Until it didn’t. He was halfway through the invocation when the barrier was broken.

He doesn’t really remember much after that. Only a searing pain in his face. Like fire crawling across his skin. Then, Scott was standing over him. Eyes blaring that accursed red. He had broken the ash line, and killed the wolf.

Stiles didn’t know how. The ash was supposed to be able to contain a werewolf. It was supposed to be unbreakable. Thank god that wasn’t the case. If it had been, Stiles would’ve been dead. And Scott would’ve been at the mercy of a feral werewolf.

They adjusted after that. As best they could. Stiles’ face was scarred from the wolf. And Scott was now adjusting to the newfound powers. They learned later, that he was an alpha. A rather special one. Given that he was able to break the ash line.

There wasn’t too much to go on, there wasn’t much to discern what was truth or legend. They learned as they went. And the going was tough. Stiles’ magic evolved. Nearly being mauled to death tended to do that to a man.

He was far more powerful now. Even if he didn’t fully realize it. Even if he didn’t want to admit how powerful he truly was. The thought of it terrified him. It terrified Scott. They weren’t sure of anything now. There was no certainty in what they were doing. All they knew was that they could live. Until they couldn’t.

If there were things that went bump in the night, there were things that hunted them. Even if they were relatively peaceful. Stiles had graduated high school. Was ready to take his first semester of college. He’d gotten a few tattoos. Scott had a girlfriend. Things were good. Until the black SUVs came.

The men were armed to the teeth. With no sign of remorse or anything else that would work in their favor. They’d been hunting the alpha. Tracking it over its warpath. Feral creatures rarely made sense. And never adhered to any discernable reason.

This had been the last place the wolf had been. Its rampage ended here. Because Stiles and Scott had ended it. Apparently, the hunters were out for blood. The alpha had killed one or more of their own, and they were the type that held a grudge. A grudge that came with a Desert Eagle attached to it.

His father did the best he could. The bastards all had licensees. All had up to date permits. And never outright broke the law. Legally, there was nothing that they could do. Legally. Stiles, being the son of a cop, had long since learned to work outside the law. Even before he knew he had magic.

There wasn’t a whole lot he could do. Not without drawing attention to himself. It was little things. Stalling out their vehicles. Screwing their tracking. Things like that. It worked. For a time. Until it didn’t. These guys weren’t just used to werewolves. They figured out that Stiles had magic.

That’s when things went really downhill. They were out for blood with the alpha that killed one of their own. But their obsession with getting Stiles wasn’t for blood. It was for tactical use. Apparently, and this was a shock to him, magic users were prized in the hunter community.

Namely, because they could be used to find wolf packs. And incapacitate them. Stiles didn’t much like being kidnapped. Neither did his father. He couldn’t rally the other police behind him. Not without exposing Stiles’ powers to others.

What he could do was tell Scott, and plan a tactical attack. Which worked flawlessly. Until once again, it didn’t. The hunters didn’t know how to take a loss. And regrouped in fury. There wasn’t another choice. They had to run. Ditch the bastards along the way. Stiles’ would discover cloaking spells much later than he needed to.

His father would stay behind for appearances. He would simply say that his son went off to a college a few towns over. None would be the wiser. The hunters couldn’t make a move against him. It was the first time in a while that the title of sheriff suited them. Scott stayed behind to. Just in case.

Stiles took out onto the roads. A thousand dollars cash, and a burner cell phone. That’s what he had to work with. Until, because the universe has a shitty sense of humor, things hit the fan. The hunters had their own magic user. Not him, but someone just good enough.

The tracked Stiles north, and proceeded an all-out assault. Apparently, his magic was worth this much fight. He gave as good as he got. Attack spells weren’t something he was all that great at. Nor did he relish in using them. Magic specifically made for harming and or killing made him nauseous.

Fireballs hurt like a bitch, as well as blinding hexes. Those, Stiles didn’t mind using as much. They only lasted a few weeks, and the spell itself was painless. Well, almost. Even still, these hunters didn’t know when to goddamn quit.

He was on his ass when he heard the first of the howls. The figure broke through the tree line, heading straight towards the big one. He was dead before he hit the ground. Half a dozen more followed suit. This time, the hunters tucked tail and ran. They came armed for a magic user. Not a pack of werewolves.

Stiles counted his lucky stars. Then, shit got worse. The hunters were gone, and he was sporting fractured ribs. Currently surrounded by a pack of wolves. With their alpha glaring daggers at him with hellfire eyes.

He didn’t have any quarrel with them. But he had brought violence onto their land. What little research he’d managed, he knew that wasn’t good. Wolves were all about territory. And they didn’t take kindly to people encroaching upon it.

The one thing that he had going for him was that he wasn’t armed. At least, he wasn’t armed like a hunter. He still had enough magic for a quick getaway tactic, but not much more. Pushing himself past what he knew his limit would result in…Less than pleasant consequences.

The alpha, now human faced, approaches him. He’s kind of hot. In a rugged, sleeps in a wood cabin, kind of way. The beard was working for him. So were the eyebrows. They had an expression all their own. Stiles really shouldn’t have been thinking with his dick. But the very real possibility of his death looming, what else could go wrong.

“You’re not a wolf.” His voice is soft given his appearance.

“Nope, just a slightly above average human.” It wasn’t a lie, but not the truth either.

“A little more than that. You fought against nearly a dozen of them, barehanded. Which means you watch too many actions movies. Or magic.” Shit. Stiles had been hoping to avoid that. Wolves didn’t like magic. At least, Scott didn’t.

He said it gave him the heebie jeebies whenever he did spell work. Like he needed to run as far and as fast as he could. Stiles asked his dad. He said that the air always felt strange when he did. There was a certain hesitation that came when people felt him use his powers.

He’d just fought a group of hunters, at near maximum force, for the better part of an hour. They must’ve felt his magic, and came running. They were more than willing to aid in the fight, given that it was hunters on their land. But now that the fight was concluded, he was at their mercy.

“Look, I didn’t know this was occupied territory. I still kind of new to this whole, werewolves are real thing. It’s been a couple years, but I’m still learning.” The big guy didn’t seem to take any displeasure with his answer. He wasn’t lying.

“Your face says that you’ve dealt with a wolf before, and an alpha at that. You kill it?” Stiles felt a lump form in his throat.

“Yes.” Stiles didn’t bother lying. Well, he had a part in the wolf’s death. That, he couldn’t deny. Even if Scott didn’t break the guy’s neck, the spell he planned on using would’ve.

“I assume self-defense. I’ll give you that, but what I can’t overlook, is the scent of alpha on you. You know a wolf, and you know him well enough to carry his scent.”

Double shit. Scott had become, touchy since his wolfy transformation. There was plenty of fanfiction detailing why. The reality was a tad more, practical. Wolves, natural and supernatural, associated scent with safety and comfort. Stiles was safe. Despite his freaky magic fingers.

Scott basically rolled himself all over Stiles’ clothes before he left. It was the only way that he could leave without the newly minted wolf tagging along. Something about warding off other creatures. Stiles didn’t pay that much attention. He was too busy trying to get the hell out of dodge.

This guy, this alpha, was more than aware of his relationship with Scott. More so than he wanted to. He could admit to killing a wolf, then having one as a friend. It didn’t look very good. There wasn’t enough magic left in him for a fight with a werewolf pack. He could run, and hope for the best.

“Look, up until I was seventeen, I had magic. Strong magic, but I kept to myself and didn’t hurt anyone. I didn’t think much about anything else. Then, that crazy ass alpha came and started stalking me. Then, he attacked my friend. Shit went downhill from there. We’ve been trying to manage since then.”

“I can’t exactly take you on your word. You trespassed, and killed hunters on our land. That warrants inspection.” This wasn’t going to be good.

“I’m guessing I now have to come with you lot, less I suffer horrible mangling?” His tone was saturated and Stiles honestly didn’t care.

“Glad we understand each other.” The big one jerked his head towards the others. A silent dismissal to move back towards wherever they’d come from. Stiles followed him.

Much to his misfortune, they had ran all the way here. Which meant a long walk back. A really, really long walk. He was practically dead on his feet. Every muscle in his body was screaming. Offensive magic tended to do that. He was exhausted. To say the least.

But he didn’t make any complaints. He wasn’t about to put these people in any worse of a mood. They probably already hated him. He’d brought violence to their home. He’d brought hunters. And, in the midst of his panic, he hadn’t thought to apologize. Oh well, he’d get to it later.

The trees begin to part, and Stiles’ magic goes on full alert. They must’ve been close to the house or wherever they lived. Scott always sent a tingle in his fingertips. This many wolves in one place was like touching a live wire. It was oddly pleasant.

Just when the first peek of the house begins to emerge, one of the wolves hisses in pain. Rather sharply. It’s the other big one, tall and dark skinned. Guy honestly looks like a commando. Stiles was by his side the same time as the alpha.

The nameless wolf growled lowly in his throat. An intense, and very real threat to back off. Stiles huffed and dismissed him with a wave of his hand. The pained wolf flashed his eyes. A brilliant gold, his own warning. Stiles, feeling extra ballsy, flicked him in the forehead.

The source of the wolf’s pain was a broken rib. Shattered by a bullet, which no doubt was laced with wolfsbane. It had passed through cleanly, so the poisoning wasn’t lethal. But it was impeding his healing. Which could be a problem. So, Stiles helped. Well, he tried to.

The alpha, snatched his wrist, baring fang. Making a very apparent warning now. Back off, or get the shit kicked out of you. Stiles, after the day’s events, was less than enthused. The injured wolf, even more so. There was enough to worry about.

“Broken rib, with mild wolfsbane poisoning. He isn’t healing. His body is too busy trying to push out the toxin. I can remove it.”

“Why should I trust you?” His anger and hesitation were clear. Stiles didn’t care.

“You, in all honesty shouldn’t. But you don’t have a better option. If the poison has reached the marrow, he’ll be dead in about an hour, and you can’t do magic. So please, present me with an alternative.” The alpha’s eyes quivered in his head. Anger being replaced with fear.

“Hurt him, try and use him as a distraction to run, and you won’t have legs to run with afterwards.” Stiles pulled his wrist from the alpha’s grasp. Trying to focus now on healing with wolf in front of him.

What little magic he had used for healing was used on himself, or his father. Little cuts and scrapes. Both of them were human. This guy was a werewolf. He’d never healed Scott because, well, super healing and all that. But he’d never been poisoned either.

So, Stiles did what he did best, which was improvise. The body of a human and the body of a werewolf were essentially the same. On a biological level at least. So, for the most part, it would fairly straightforward. Until it wasn’t.

Manually extracting poison via magic turned out to be painful. Really painful. Because as soon as Stiles started, he lashed out, and copped a slash across his arm. The alpha held his beta firm, preventing him from striking again.

Stiles wiped away the blood, using it as a catalyst for the spell. It enhanced what he was doing, and made the process a tad smoother. Though it didn’t lessen the pain any. The poor guy was practically in tears. It took a few minutes, but he managed to release the toxin, and remove it from his blood.

He was actually proud of himself. Given the circumstances. When the magic was finished, the wolf managed to breathe a sigh of relief. Now, his body could heal itself. The effects of the poison would’ve slowed the process. But healing was healing. Stiles was on cloud nine. Until he wasn’t.

Overusing his powers had consequences. Namely, unconsciousness. He felt his legs go just as the world swam into blackness. Firm hands grasped him under his shoulders. They were warm. Stiles had just enough time to be happy about it before his eyes shut.

***

When he wakes, the world is still spinning. Not as much as when he passed out, but still. Not the best way to regain one’s senses. Whatever he’s lying on is sinfully comfortable. Enough that he doesn’t really want to wake up. Seeing as his entire body is racked with pain.

Memories come flashing in. Broken bits and pieces. Hunters. Fight. Fireballs. Wolf pack. Wolfsbane. Healing magic. Fractured and displaced words that made more sense as he thought about it. He was too tired to think though. Too tired to be worried. So, he let himself fall back into the depths of slumber. Unconcerned of where he presently was.

When he sleeps, he dreams of his father. His pinched face at the serving of a vegetarian meal. Scott’s joyous laughter. All the little things he had missed in the month since he’d left. There was a whole life behind him. One he missed. One that he longed for.

He called every other day. For a few short minutes at a time. The hunters had long since abandoned the idea of Scott. He was too close to the sheriff. There was no sign of them back home. They’d all focused their attention on Stiles.

He sifts and swims. His mind churning through hastily made turns. And shadowy exchanges of currency. Being on the run wasn’t fun or exciting. It was lonely and heartbreaking. He longed for home. Where the sun shined brighter, and the days were sweeter.

He didn’t have that. He could’ve, but people were assholes. He’d hoped to take out all of the hunters in their confrontation. But he’d failed. And he had to be saved by a pack of wolves. Which jogs his memory. Jolting part of his consciousness awake.

He had passed out. He had passed out healing one of the injured wolves. They must’ve taken him back to their home. Made sure he was safe. Stiles was sleeping in one of their beds. It felt…nice. He felt oddly safe. Given that he was surrounded by strangers.

All of whom were werewolves. That was a safe enough assumption. They obviously didn’t have any ill intentions. Otherwise he’d be restrained or dead. So, he felt reasonable that he had nothing to worry about. Until he did.

There were raised voices. Not exactly in anger. But Stiles’ magic, what little there was of it, could certainly sense some tension. Someone wasn’t happy. And that displeasure could turn into anger quickly. He probably should’ve stayed in bed. Probably. But he was far too curious to wait and see.

It was almost funny, watching their reactions as he walked into the living room. The house itself wasn’t remarkable. Minimally furnished, in browns and vanillas. Sensible yet modern. He was almost impressed. Even more so when he managed to scare a group of werewolves.

The alpha was arguing with another member of his pack. No, that wasn’t quite right. The woman’s eyes were red. Same as his. They couldn’t be in the same pack, could they? A pack with two alphas. Stiles didn’t know how that would work. He took a mental note to ask later.

“What was I supposed to do Laura? Leave him to die?”

“No, but you didn’t need to bring him back here. The hunters were after him, and you killed at least three. They’ll be back. To say nothing of his alpha. We can’t handle another pack bearing down on us.”

“He was running. Away from his alpha, who probably has no idea where he is.”

“That doesn’t get rid of the hunters. They could take this is a declaration of war, and we aren’t prepared for that.” The woman was angry now. Stiles’ magic could feel it. He could also tell that they hadn’t noticed him. He decided to announce himself.

“Hey.”

“WHAT!?” The both of them screamed in unison, turning towards him. Their faces dropped from anger. Then lit up in surprise. Then in fear. It was a rather extreme shift in mood in such a short few seconds.

The raised voices must’ve alerted the rest of the pack. As they all came spilling into the living room. Eyes glowing gold. Ready for a fight. Stiles just waved halfheartedly. Smiling that shit eating grin he was so famous for.

Derek and Laura, the alphas, relaxed. And when they did, the others followed suit. Now that mommy and daddy were calm, everybody else could be. The entire situation was the worst kind of comedy. But still easily enjoyed. Stiles tried not to feel bad about it.

“So, not to interrupt, but how’s tall, dark, and handsome doing? I’d like to think I exhausted myself with good reason.”

“Boyd is fine. His ribs will be fully healed by tomorrow morning.” Derek glanced over towards Laura. Eyes quivering with a single question. What the fuck do we do now? She marched towards him, eyes alert with a tempered rage. She was less than enthused.

“I don’t like magic users, I like them less when they’re in my house. Get out.” Stiles wasn’t planning on staying. He had a little cash, so a local hotel was optional. He’d need a few days to rest and recover his magic. Only, that wasn’t what Derek planned.

“He’s staying here. He saved Boyd’s life, and we owe him a bed. We don’t have to like him, but we aren’t disgracing our family name.” Laura’s eyes seemed to burn even brighter.

“HE.STAYS.”

Stiles didn’t like tension. He didn’t like violence. But it was very apparent that these two weren’t going to agree on much of anything. Whatever had happened in the past, they didn’t trust magic users. Stiles didn’t blame them.

Werewolves were one thing. But people who could channel eldritch forces were another matter altogether. He hadn’t really learned all that much about actual magic. Where it came from, how it worked. There were competing theories.

Some say magic existed everywhere, in everything. That everyone had the potential to use and harness it. But not everyone realized it. Stiles just happen to be able to do that a little easier than others. Some learned through arcane knowledge. Others, through contracts with entities both benevolent malignant.

He just had magic. And when it got stronger, he taught himself. That’s the way it worked. He doubted either Derek or Laura would believe anything he had to say. They didn’t trust him. Well, Laura didn’t. She had this look in her eye that said she would gut him if he so much as twitched the wrong way.

“I’m calling Deaton. He can tell us more about this guy.” She had her phone out, fingers tapping in rapid succession. Stiles was impressed.

“Hi, sorry to keep interrupting. But you really don’t need to call anybody. I’ll answer any questions you have. Also, who’s Deaton?”

“Deaton is like you, he can use magic. Maybe not to the extent that you can, but magic all the same.” Derek didn’t elaborate beyond that.

“Okay. With all due respect, I’m not gonna sit down and be poked and prodded. Like I said, I’ll answer your questions.” Laura didn’t like his quip of attitude.

She stormed over towards him, lording over him. Despite Stiles being a full three inches taller than her. The young woman wasn’t exactly pleased. Her eyes blared red, nostrils flared in anger. One wrong move, and Stiles’ head will likely be crushed.

A little of his magic had come back since he’d rested. But not enough to incapacitate a pissed off werewolf. Laura wasn’t the kind of opponent he could go against right now. Not if he wanted to keep his ability to walk upright.

“You brought hunters onto our land. The fact that I haven’t gutted you is a mercy.”

“Again, I’m new to the whole werewolf thing. Didn’t know this was occupied territory. Didn’t know that they’d follow me this far. Give me a freaking break, lady.” Laura’s eyes glared red even more.

“We’ve lost enough to those murderous bastards. I could’ve lost my brother. He could’ve lost one or more of his betas. You don’t get a break.”

The only reason the woman hadn’t take a chunk out of him was because of Derek. He placed his hand on his sister’s shoulder. Pulling her back from her anger. There was a moment between them. A thousand words said in silence.

Stiles didn’t pretend to understand anything that they’d gone through. If hunters were after him, they’d be after Derek and Laura as well. Magic was one thing. Being able to go furry…He’d seen enough X-men movies to know where that went.

That being said, he’d lost plenty as well. Namely, his childhood. His innocence. Scott nearly lost his life. Everything that they knew and loved, turned on its and head and upside down. He had to kill people. Actually kill them. Using his magic for that…It left a scar that would never fade.

He didn’t like to think about it. Self-defense it may have been. But killing was still killing. His magic didn’t care for it. Whenever he did it, the next few days were hell. Spent with restlessness body aches. And an impending sense of doom.

He doubted Derek and Laura would care very much. He killed people with his magic. He was strong enough to do that. Not to mention the spell that he attempted on the rouge alpha. That kind of magic was…taboo. It violated just about every principal of the supernatural world.

If it had succeeded, it would’ve made him even more dangerous. He wouldn’t have cared. Scott would’ve had his life back. He would’ve been able to live as a human. Have a human family, and a human life. He deserved that. Hell, Stiles did to.

The house is still buzzing from Derek and Laura’s argument. The betas are restless. The three of them are standing in various positions in the parlor. Stiles knows better than to try and run. He wouldn’t even make it to the door.

Boyd, the one that he’d saved, stares him down with a plain expression. But his eyes want to say something. The blonde one looks at Stiles like he’s something to eat. Scarf boy is smug, but alert. Quite an interesting trio they make.

There are others that join him. The young woman looks fairly fierce. Eyes pointed and sharp. She’d snap Stiles’ neck and not even have the curtesy to feel guilty about it. The man that follows her is in his mid-thirties. Deep plunging V-neck meaning a colossal douche. Or at least, that was Stiles’ experience.

Both of them pay no attention beyond glaring at him. He wasn’t welcome here. They didn’t want him in their house, or on their land. That much, he could tell. The day was sure to be interesting. In the worst way possible. He was surrounded by borderline hostile wolves, with nowhere to go.

All of them perk to attention at the same time. Eyes trained towards the front door. Someone was here. Not someone they considered a threat. As they all relaxed within seconds. Stiles watches and waits to see who walks inside.

The man is…plain. At least in appearance. He resembles Boyd in an offhand way, but he can tell that they aren’t related. What he is sure of, is that the man has magic. Old magic. Like, really old. Stiles’ power didn’t come from anywhere but himself. This guy was different.

This must’ve Deaton. And whatever he was…it felt…powerful. The kind of thing that flowed through the earth, and in the air. Over mountains and in the deepest reaches of the sea. In all that breathed and lived and died. Some real ancient shit.

He endures the embraces of the wolves. Who, in one form or another, engage the man with physical contact. It’s a very strange thing to witness. But not so strange at all. Scott was the same way. Only he was a little more reserved about it.

He carries a bag, filled with things that have the same energy he does. Slightly more muted, but similar. Stiles dislikes the idea of being made to be a science project. But Laura needed appeasing. And she wouldn’t be until Stiles was declared a non-threat.

“Good evening everyone. I trust you’re well.” His voice was oddly calming.

“Cut the shit pleasantries. Tell me whether or not I can trust this guy.” Laura had gotten even tenser.

“Laura, excellent to see you in such good health. But let’s dispense the unneeded hostility. If the young man was truly a threat, I suspect none of you would still be alive.” That statement didn’t help anything.

Deaton sets his bag down and formally introduces himself. When they shake hands, Stiles feels a jolt go up his spine. He’d never met another magic user before. So he didn’t really have a base for comparison. Not that it was a bad thing. Just an unexpected one.

“I can see that you’re certainly adept. More so than I ever was.”

“That means, what, exactly?” Laura hadn’t even the exam a few minutes before she butted in.

“Mr.Stilinski has a great deal of potential, as it were. Meaning he can grow and grow, surpassing limits that can only be achieved a few times in a generation. Tell me, what invocations do you use?”

“Um, none. I just kinda instinctively know what to do. My magic tells me what’s right and what’s wrong. What it can do. What I can do.”

“So you have no rituals, no gods, no ceremonies or texts? Just yourself?”

“Yeah, I guess. I’ve always been able to do simple stuff. Then, after the alpha bit my friend, and shit hit the fan, it just kind of exploded.”

There was a palpable silence in the room. Deaton, wise eyed Deaton, had nothing to say. Not that he was saying much to begin with. The man extracted a set of candles from his bag. They looked like anything anyone could by at Walmart.

Then, of course to the cliché, he asked Stiles to light them using his magic. This was basic stuff. He didn’t even need to think. All three candles lit up instantly. Little orange flames flickering about. Magic like this didn’t even take effort anymore. The reaction he got, wasn’t what he expected.

Deaton had carried a placid face since his arrival. For the first time, there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth. A glimmer in his eyes. Stiles’ magic grew defensive. It could feel the power thrumming through this guy. Like he wanted to attack.

“I must say, that was…surprising.”

“Good surprising, or bad?” Stiles didn’t know if he wanted the answer.

“Both, Mr.Stilinski. One of the candles was normal. Easily lit. Another was coated with a substance that should’ve made it impossible to light. The third…the third was charmed. Charmed against being lit with any magical force. Yet you managed to light it. To light in in time with the other two. Without even blinking.”

“And that means, what exactly?”

“It means, Mr.Stilinski, you are not only incredibly powerful, but incredibly rare. Magic does not simply exist. It does not come from nowhere. It needs coaxing. It needs practice. It needs power and energy and time. But what you did, that was practically unheard of. Wherein you bypassed all basic principles of magic, and preformed with no effort. No ritual. No motion. No language. You simply…did.”

“And the bad part?”

“The bad part, Mr.Stilinski, is your magic has no limit. You can use and be and cast. Virtually without consequence. It means that you have the potential to become a walking legend, as it were. Or, should your motivations become dark and twisted, you will fall to the depths of history’s greatest tyrants.”

“So what, you’re saying I could become magical Hitler?”

“Not quite so crass a phrase, but I suppose yes. Your potential could lead to many things. Your magic could lead to many things. You, as of right now, are quite possibly the most powerful magic user on this continent. Maybe even this hemisphere.”

That didn’t settle anyone down. At all. Laura looked like she was ready to gut Stiles, as she had previously threatened. He wanted to run. But the betas were still by the door. Blocking his escape. At this point, he was willing to risk it.

What he wasn’t willing to risk, was Scott. Even if Stiles died, and they got the terrible magic user of their land, that wouldn’t stop there. People, werewolves or otherwise, held grudges. Longtime grudges when harm or death was involved.

He was tired of having to hurt others to survive. Tired of having to hurt them. Tired of having to kill. It wasn’t something he enjoyed. It was something his magic hated. Something that cut down to his soul. Where all the dark things he’d down compiled into endlessness.

So, he waited. Derek and Laura trotted off, Deaton in tow. More than likely discussing what to do next. He was a powerful magic user. They now needed to consider if the threat of that power extended to them. He wanted to assure them that it didn’t.

He just wanted to be home. Home with his friends. Home with his dad. Where the world was his, in that tiny little shit town. Where there were no hunters, or rogue alphas. Or anything that made them other than what they were.

Just people, trying to live their lives. Live as good and as well as they could. He wanted that. He just wanted to be normal. Wanted to be away from the madness that the supernatural world had brought them.

But he was tired of running. He was tired of fighting. He was tired of dealing with everything the universe thought to throw at him. He’d had enough, and he wanted no more. That was the truth of it. Where all that he had was taken from him. Leaving a broken, lost child. Wanting for home.

He is broken from his melancholy by a firm hand on his shoulder. Boyd stands like stone beside him. Ever still. There are ten thousand words lingering on his tongue. Things he wishes, wants to say. Stiles doesn’t know how to handle that kind of look.

“I never did thank you, for saving me.”

“Consider it a repayment for taking care of those hunters. I would’ve been dead or worse if not for you guys.” Stiles wasn’t lying. The hunters would’ve either killed him, or taken him captive. Forcing him to do awful things with his magic.

Boyd takes the sincerity of his statement and leaves back towards the blonde one. She nods her head sharply. A silent thanks as well. The scarf wearing, curly haired boy says nothing. Maybe he’s just shy. Maybe he doesn’t like magic users either. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care.

Laura, Derek, and Deaton return after nearly an hour. Peter is restless. Cora is in indifferent. This does not look like it’s going to work in his favor. He can only hope. That’s the only thing he has. The only thing that matters to him in this moment.

“I have some more questions. You’re going to answer them.”

“Shoot, Nancy Boy.” Stiles probably shouldn’t have made a joke. But it was the best he could manage in this kind of situation.

“Derek says you killed the alpha that turned your friend. Judging by your face, he wasn’t easy to take down.”

“Guy was feral. There wasn’t a piece of him that was human anymore. There was only the wolf. And the wolf was pissed.”

“All the more reason for us to treat you like a threat. A magic user than can take down a feral alpha singlehandedly is someone to be afraid of. So, the question is, how did you kill him?”

Stiles bit his tongue. There were several problems now. Well, two really. The first, if he revealed that he didn’t in fact kill the alpha, Scott would be in danger. A wolf without a pack was a dangerous thing. They wouldn’t let that slide.

The second problem, was that they’d learn about the spell that he had attempted. The magic wasn’t exactly dark. There was no evil intent behind it. Even if he knew the end result. But spells that could make bitten wolves turn human again….

To a pack it would’ve been the ultimate threat. The ultimate danger. Stiles wouldn’t have had a chance to even run. They’d kill him on the spot. They’d kill him and not even apologize about it. Probably bury him somewhere in the trees. Away from the knowing world.

The choice he had to make was simple. Lie, and endanger himself. Or tell the truth, and endanger Scott. It was a rather easy decision. One that took only a matter of seconds. He apologized to his father at the back of his mind as he made it.

“I never asked to be born with magic. Scott never asked to be a werewolf. I want you to understand that.”

“Answer the question.” Laura had dropped any pretense of civility. Not that she had any to begin with.

“I…I found a way to make Scott human again. I found a way to undo what had been done.”

“Kill the alpha, turn back to human. We’ve all heard the legend.” Derek’s tone wasn’t exactly enthralled.

“Not exactly. Killing the alpha outright wouldn’t have done anything. I sealed him. I bound him, and attempted to sever the connection between him and Scott. After that was done…Well, you know the rest.”

Laura was vibrating with anger. She was actually, physically shaking. There was no doubt how she viewed Stiles now. Derek’s eyebrows were at the top of his head. Deaton remained stone faced. Peter was smiling, ear to ear. Cora was finally paying attention.

“Did it work, your spell?”

“No. It killed him, but Scott was still a wolf afterwards. I attempted a magic that violated the limitations of what magic could do. I’m not a god. Nor do I pretend to be one. I just wanted my life, and my friend’s life, to go back to the way it was.”

“By perverting everything that the supernatural world is built on. A man is dead. And you get to walk away.” Laura’s tongue spat venom like a cobra. And Stiles’ magic burned like the sun.

“A man that was no longer a man. A man that stole the life of two teenagers. That ripped my face, and damned by best friend from ever having a normal life. Also, just to say fuck you, I didn’t walk away without consequence.”

Stiles had never showed anyone what he was about to show Laura and the others. Not his dad. Not Scott. It was a marker of his hubris. A maker of his failure. A reminder of what happens when men try and play god.

He turned round, lifting his shirt for the others to see. On his back, a web of scarring. Spreading from the tops of his shoulders. Stopping near the base of his spine. It looked like lightning. A pattern of power and energy. The fault that he’d made, engraved his flesh for all time.

The reminder was there every time he looked in the mirror. He was never going to be able to escape it. He tried to do something terrible in the name of doing something good. He knew that. He knew that it was a moral grey area. But sometimes, in the darkest of nights, he felt like a terrible person.

Derek…Laura…Deaton….They would never understand that. They would never know the depth of his choice. The willpower it took. The sacrifice that he made. He could tell that they had lost. They had suffered. Laura said it herself.

Death was another thing that magic could not touch. Not really. Once gone, always gone. Forever. There were no exceptions. Stiles hadn’t been quite brave enough to try and bring his mother back after she had died. But the option was there. Had he been foolish enough to try.

Derek and the others had lost. Pack, more than likely. He didn’t know how they grieved, but he imagined it to be an immense affair. Scott being turned told him that. Wolves were…intimate creatures. They felt deeper, and cried harder.

That still didn’t give them the right to judge him. To make whether or not his sins could be forgiven. Stiles didn’t know if he believed in god. He didn’t really care at this point. But Derek and Laura Hale were in no position to declare him to be anything.

“I’m not some dark wizard, or hellbound blood witch. I’m just a guy who wanted his life back. That’s it. If you wanna make judgements, fine. Feel free to shove him up your ass.”

“Mr.Stilinski…To say that surviving that spell, alive, is a miracle would not do it justice. You attempted, not to bend the laws of this world, but to break them. That, in of itself, should’ve killed you, your friend, and just about everyone in a ten mile radius.” Deaton was pale. Despite the fact that he was a dark skinned black man.

“Am I supposed to count my lucky stars? Cause I’m not.”

“Mr.Stilinski, you fail to realize the power of what I told you. Your magic instinctively reacted to a threat of your own making. Rather that the shockwave dealing far more damage than it should’ve, it turned it inwards. Marking your skin as payment for keeping you alive.”

“I mean, my magic kinda does its own thing sometimes, but it’s never done anything like that.”

“Precisely my point. Your power far exceeds what I could achieve, even with several lifetimes of study and practice. You said yourself, you’re not a god. But this is about as a close as one can get.”

“Great, walking god. Brings hunters onto our land, and threatens our pack.”

“Laura, as yours and Derek’s emissary, I can advise this. If Mr.Stilinski had any ill intent, none of you would be standing. This house would not be standing. All of you would be dead. In fact, he more than likely could’ve dispatched the hunters himself. Yet, I suspect there was a reason he didn’t.”

“My magic…It doesn’t like being used to hurt others. Magic made to cause harm…To inflict pain…It makes me sick. Literally. That’s why I used that spell as a last resort. I knew the consequences would be bad. Just didn’t know how bad.”

Deaton doesn’t say anything else. He does ask Stiles if he can examine his back. The young magic user complies. When the man’s hands touch his mark, the room quivers. The lights flicker, and the air seems to vibrate. The wolves grow even more unsettled.

“This, Mr.Stilinski is more than just payment for the magic you attempted. I believe, in part, this to be a curse. One that will severely limit your power. Unconsciously at the very least. Even still, you are an impressive young man.”

“So, I cursed myself? Great. Any way to get rid of it? One that doesn’t involve some horrible sacrifice in some godforsaken forest.”

“Not so dramatic. But not easy either. Curses such as this are deeper than flesh. They are born of guilt and shame. Of sorrow and loss. The oldest curses require the oldest of their opposites. Which is vexing, as the wording leaves much to be desired.”

He didn’t know what that meant. He wasn’t a wizard or a sorcerer. Ancient things like that didn’t work with his magic. Or rather, he didn’t need them. His magic was his magic. It was always there. Underneath his skin. Right at the edges of his fingertips.

Sure, he used some sparse herbs, or metals in his work. Nothing that fancy. It aided in the process, but it certainly wasn’t a requirement. That, he knew. His magic came from within. From what he wanted and desired. What he wanted to see, and what he didn’t want to see.

Right now, at this very moment, he wanted to be back home. In his bed, in his house. He wanted to see his dad, and Scott. Melissa and Lydia. Hell, he even wanted to see Jackson. The smug bastard. That’s what he missed. His life. That’s what the hunters had taken from him.

They’d taken from the Hales as well. They understood that. Some part of Stiles was hoping that he and Laura would’ve been able to find some common ground. Maybe, just maybe, after showing his back, she would lighten up. She could hate him all she wanted, but she could at least understand.

“My conclusion is, while powerful beyond measure, Mr.Stilinski poses no threat to your pack. Unless you intend to do him harm.”

“That was never my intent. I was just angry.” Laura’s face was still twisted in disdain.

“So, like, I’m free to go, right?”

“You can stay the night, rest, recover. Then, Derek will drive you back home.”

Laura dismissed herself. Anger dissipated and no longer a threat. Stiles wondered if he was truly safe here. That the she-wolf wouldn’t come back and try to slit his throat while he slept. And honestly, at this point, he was too tired to care.

The betas dispersed, leaving Stiles alone with Derek and Deaton. The latter still looked at him…Well, like something out of a horror movie. There was also a strange glint in his eye. He was afraid, but he was also curious. A dangerous mix. But again, Stiles was too tired to care.

“Forgive my sister. She inherited the mantel far too young. It’s taken a toll.” There was a story behind those words. One of tragedy and heartbreak.

Stiles wanted to ask. Wanted to know why, exactly, his sister would like to very much see his guts. But he knew it wasn’t appropriate. It wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the place. He had earned a place to sleep. And was still breathing. He’d take what he could get at this point.

Derek led him towards the back of the house. The others had already settled back in. The ones that hadn’t, ignored him as they walked by. Laura may have been openly hostile, but the others seemed indifferent. They had decided that Stiles wasn’t at threat.

The inside of Derek’s room is…sparse. He is a rather simplistic man. Neutral colors. Nothing ornate or embellished. Stiles appreciated it. The whole setup was rather calm to the chaos of his own room. Which was a spattering of his nerdom and unrelenting ADD.

The alpha offers his bed silently. Taking a seat in a rather small recliner. Stiles, never one to be a rude houseguest, pulls the alpha up. Telling him that they can, for the one night, share the bed. It’s odd thing to witness the look on Derek’s face.

The man, so stoic, seems, well, flustered. Slightly red in the face. Genuinely surprised at the suggestion. Maybe it was a wolf thing. Maybe he’d never shared the bed with another man before. Stiles didn’t know. But he wasn’t about to kick a man out of his own space.

There’s enough room for them to sleep with a fair amount of space between them. It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It was just the best possible way. Scott was cuddly. But that’s because he considered Stiles to be pack.

He was, decidedly, not pack here. Derek had no reason to be lovey dovey. Stiles didn’t expect him to. They just settled in, trying their best to find some manner of rest. Which was relatively easy. He felt no danger. And after the day’s events, he was more than ready for bed. When he sleeps, he dreams of wolves. Of running and howling. It’s only mildly strange.

***

The morning comes in pieces. The first thing that he notices was a warm body, wrapped round his own. Sometime in the night, Derek had snaked his way over. Enveloping Stiles in a loose sort of hug. It was comfortable. The alpha radiated a pleasant amount of body heat. Which had kept him warm as he slept.

The wolf hadn’t noticed that Stiles was awake. So, some small part of him enjoyed watching the man sleep. He was stern, and stoic. And perhaps a little too macho. While he slept, the chiseled features of his face relaxed. He was, for lack of a better word, soft.

Stiles would’ve been lying if he’d said that he didn’t find Derek attractive. That was an out and out lie. Through and through. To see him like this felt…intimate. In a way that felt wrong for him to witness. But at the same time, he was content to stay here. Except that nature was calling. And the urgency was increasing.

He tried to unwrap himself from the alpha’s arms. Only to find his hold tighten ever so slightly. A low grumble in his throat. Almost like a cat purring. It was way too adorable for two hundred pounds of werewolf. He actually chuckled. The sound of which made the werewolf in question pop awake.

Derek seemed, well startled. For a numbers of reasons. The first of which that he and Stiles were in bed together. The next was that the alpha had wrapped around the other man. Despite knowing each other for less than a day. The final, was the blush in his cheeks, and the notion that Stiles hadn’t moved.

The alpha slowly unraveled himself. Getting out of the bed without saying so much as a word. Stiles chuckled again. It was an amusing thing. Given all that had happened. It was a nice sort of thing, to be able to tease someone so foreboding.

The bathroom unoccupied, he took the opportunity to relieve himself. Making sure to hurry as to not keep Derek waiting. As if the alpha would’ve been in a hundred feet of him. After waking up to that, he was sure to have been embarrassed. Stiles made a note to apologize for laughing at him.

When he enters the living room, the eyes of the betas turn towards him. Nostrils flaring in shock. Derek’s scent no doubt all over him. Their senses would’ve been in disarray. Stiles had to stifle another laugh. He really was trying his best.

Laura was decidedly less than enthused. She didn’t like Stiles to begin with. At all. Having her brother’s scent on him would’ve seemed….challenging. Derek hadn’t meant to, but he’d marked him. Stiles had no intention of joining his or Laura’s pack. He’d overstayed his welcome. And he was eager to be him.

“Good to see you’re feeling better. Goodbye.” The she-wolf huffed, walking away with heavy footsteps. Stiles waved mockingly. Smiling that famous shit eating grin of his.

“Again, forgive Laura. She doesn’t mean anything. But….”

“It’s okay sourwolf. Let’s just get me home, so you guys can get on with your lives.”

Derek’s face turned a rather wondrous shade of scarlet. It was funny seeing an alpha werewolf blush. Especially given Derek’s disposition. Stiles, again, had to stifle a laugh. It was reassuring to see that he could knock an alpha werewolf down a peg.

As he made his way out the door, Erica grabbed him by the arm. At first, there was a fleeting sense of terror. He thought he was in danger. When the wolf hugged him, that went out the window. This particular pack was very….huggy.

“Thank you, for Boyd. Even if Laura won’t say it, thank you.” Stiles simply patted the young woman on the head. Unsure of how to proceed. He didn’t want to cross some unknown line, making offense. He took her gratitude silently, making sure that he wasn’t doing anything to piss Boyd off.

Derek huffed in derision, making it clear that he was ready to go. Stiles smiled at the she-wolf before walking away. He was going to miss them. Even he didn’t want to admit it. Even if he’d most likely never see them again. Even if one of their alphas didn’t particularly care for him all that much.

Derek’s Camaro was exactly as he expected it to be. Jet black, all leather interior, and not a spot of dirt on the inside. It was the most ridiculous thing he’d seen in a while. The alpha made no comment as Stiles slid into the passenger seat.

For the most part, they drive in silence. Which Stiles would’ve preferred to begin with. They’d had enough awkwardness to last them several lifetimes. That being said, he couldn’t help but take glances at Derek. The man was an enigma. He had inherited the mantle of alpha, just like his sister. But was nowhere near as distrusting as she was.

Perhaps it’s because Stiles risked his life to save one of his betas. Maybe he had better instincts. Maybe it was just his natural temperament. He didn’t know. The man was certainly interesting. If nothing else.

When they’re to the halfway point, Stiles begins to drift to sleep. He never could stay awake if he wasn’t the one driving. The slow rumbling of the tires, the white noise of the out-of-tune radio….the assurance that nothing else could go wrong. For the first time in some weeks, he was able to truly relax.

He closes his eyes for only a second. When he opens them again, his magic is thrumming. He knows this feeling. A warmth in his gut that tells him a single truth. He’s home. Back where he belongs. Getting ahead of Derek, he texts Scott and his dad, letting him know that he’s back.

He spares some of the more….pressing details. Such things were better left for in person talks. Scott would have to deal with the fact that another pack saved him. And that, in part, had Derek’s scent on him. He could only hope his friend had settled into his role as an alpha enough to not throw a hissy fit.

When Derek pulls into the driveway, Stiles barely has time to get of the car before strong arms are wrapped around him. Practically squeezing the air out of his chest. Scott whimpered like a kicked puppy. Rubbing his face into the magic user’s neck. Welcoming him home.

The brightness of the moment lasted all of a second. Then, things went to shit. Scott hadn’t noticed Derek. When he did, he shifted rather smoothly, readying himself to pounce. Stiles, having excellent foresight at this point, magically binds his friend. In the nicest way possible, trying to diffuse the tension that the idiot had made.

Derek, for all he was worth, didn’t even flinch. In fact, the asshole was smiling. Which helped nothing. Neither did his father coming out the house, with a fucking shotgun. Stiles cursed his family’s overprotective idiocy. At this point, he was ready to scream.

“Now that the shit show is out of the way, can everybody calm the hell down, and go inside? Yes, good. Let’s go.”

Stiles undid the binding on Scott, yanking the gun from his father’s hands. Trying his best not to curse the two of them. His magic thrums with joy as he crosses the threshold. He was home. Even though his family were idiots, he was home.

After everyone had settled, Stiles detailed the last few weeks to Scott and his father. They were less than pleased with what he had to say. Even less happy when they learned that he’d nearly been killed. Though that was remedied when they learned that Derek and his pack systematically slaughtered the hunters.

Which then led to the part where Stiles got taken back to Derek’s house, and was questioned by his not so hospitable sister. And what Deaton had said about his magic. And the fact that he and Derek had shared a bed. Scott started growling again. Stiles wacked him upside the head like the idiot puppy he was.

“Thank you for protecting my son, Derek. But I think it’s best we set some terms. Before the hunters, we had a peaceful life. A good life. And I want that back for Stiles. For all of us.” Stiles hated the serious side of his father. It was never any fun, and a giant pain in the ass to boot.

“My pack, at least mine, is amendable to an alliance. Or, at the very least, a non-aggression pact.” Derek eyes were soft, given the nature of his proposal.

“I don’t think Laura would appreciate you negotiating with her out of the loop.” Stiles looked towards Derek like a man who’d lost his sense.

“My sister has her betas, and I have mine. And mind will not bring harm to yours.”

Scott’s face twisted like he’d smelled something sour. Stiles knew that face. It meant that he knew that the idea was good, but it wasn’t his, to he hated it. Stiles knew that face, and he goddamn hated it. Needless to say, he was tired of his friend’s over protectiveness. As well as his stubbornness.

“I don’t really know how this whole thing, works. But you kept Stiles safe, so I can at least trust you on that. Everything else, we can work it out as we go.”

Scott’s face was still pinched in that unbearable way. But they were making progress. Derek and Scott talked, at length, for about an hour. Stiles have his input, here and there. The boundaries of territories were one thing.

Derek and Laura’s pack was about a hundred miles due north. And encompassed quite a bit of land. For the most part, Scott had claimed their hometown as his territory. And they hadn’t too many issues with other non-humans passing through.

The issue at hand, was the right of safe passage through each other’s territories. Derek trusted Stiles. Laura did not. Laura had some very good reasons to not trust Stiles, given her past experiences with people trying to kill her and her family. So, perhaps an alliance was out of the question. But Derek’s idea of a nonaggression agreement seemed the most amendable.

Derek suggestions were simple and straightforward. They would have to give some form of notice before passing through each other’s territories. And would need approval from both alphas before they could stay an extended amount of time. It was rather easy. The other details were simple as well.

No interference between betas. No chasing omegas over the line. So on and so forth. Scott eased as the conversation went on. In the end, Derek wanted to check back at a later date. To try, after things had calmed down, to renegotiate a potential alliance. As he said, it was always good to have more allies.

The two alphas parted with a handshake, and Stiles tried his best not to laugh. After everything that had happened, the whole serious, macho alpha thing was actually kind of hilarious. Stiles didn’t want to insult his friend or Derek.

They part on better terms than Stiles thought they would. And Stiles’ father even gives Derek a bottle of whiskey as a thank you. He didn’t have the heart to tell the man that werewolves couldn’t get drunk. That, thanks to their accelerated healing factor, the alcohol burned off before it could intoxicate them.

Derek left with a sort of tense smile. As if he wasn’t actually used to the action. Stiles just waves and suppresses a giggle. The last few days had been…eventful. And he was tired, and more than happy to back in his own bed. He idly wondered what Derek was going to do now. And if they’d ever actually ever see each other again. There was no point in wondering. For right now, he wanted a shower, a meal cooked in his own kitchen. And maybe to jerk off a couple of times. He’d have to see where the day took him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second half, slightly longer than the first. Hope you guys enjoy.

Stiles going to strangle Scott. He was going to strangle him slowly, painfully, and with as much hatred as possible. He was trying his absolute best to restrain himself. Given all that had happened. Which was a lot. There was too much to actually think about.

He’d been on the run for nearly two months. Skipping out, town through town. Trying his best to stay under the radar. After all, there was a group of psychotic hunters trailing his ass. As if that wasn’t complicated enough, he had run into a pack of werewolves.

By some great fortune that he couldn’t exactly comprehend, they, at the very least, decided not to eviscerate him on sight. Especially given that he had unknowingly brought hunters onto their land. Derek, despite his uber macho appearance, was the more relaxed one. Laura, despite her demure, raven beauty, was the more hotheaded of the two alphas.

There was a lot to digest. He’d killed two hunters. Derek and his pack had killed some of them as well. The rest ran with their tails between their legs. It didn’t get a whole lot better after that. Laura wasn’t exactly keen with Stiles, well, she wasn’t keen on anything that involved him.

When their emissary, Deaton, showed up, they truly learned that Stiles was a freak. In the sense that his magic was abnormally strong, and that he had a lot of potential to go bad. After that, things seemed to calm down. That is, until he got home. And Scott, the overgrown puppy, decided to be an overprotective asswipe.

At the very least, they decided that there wasn’t going to be an ongoing hostility between their two packs. And Derek agreed that an alliance would be possible in the future. After he left was when Stiles got pissed. Because Scott had kept him out of the loop, on several things. Despite the fact that the fucker could’ve still sent a text.

Firstly, apparently Lydia was now a member of the supernatural. They didn’t know what exactly. But the day that Stiles had killed those hunters in the fight, she had heard it. And screamed loud enough to shatter several windows. They were still working on the ‘what’ at this point.

Secondly, Jackson, that smug little prick, was now a goddamn werewolf. He’d been in a rather unfortunate car accident, and Scott, having smelled his blood from a fucking mile away, went rushing into help. Which was fine. What wasn’t fine, was the fact that he’d been partially shifted, and revealed their big secret.

Jackson, now severely injured, not dying but injured, wanted in on the whole, ‘being a creature of the night thing’. Which, in hindsight, meant that he wasn’t going to be crippled for the rest of his life. At least he had that going for him. What Stiles was particularly perturbed about, was now Jackson was even more of a smug, arrogant douchebag.

Which, in reality, wasn’t all that big of a problem. Given that Stiles magically knocked him into a tree when he’d mouthed off one too many time. That’s when Jackson and Lydia had learned that Stiles had magic, and he was rather adapt as using it against people who pissed him off.

Now, there was an additional two people in on the secret. Well, three when you counted Scott’s mom, because she wasn’t stupid. And no one had the balls to try and lie to her when she confronted them. Which was good. Because now they had someone will medical expertise on their side. Nothing wrong with that. The only issue that remained now was the fact they were dysfunctional as shit.

Scott being the alpha was part of the problem. He wasn’t the authorative type to begin with. And Jackson’s self-centered ass wasn’t helping a goddamn thing. He argued and spat and made everything difficult whenever he could. Needless to say, Stiles got a lot of headaches from the matter. And maybe pranked Jackson a few times.

Things really came to a head when Scott revealed the other thing that he hadn’t told him about. Wherein his girlfriend, Allison, was a hunter. A fucking hunter. Turns out, her whole goddamn family were hunters. Had been for centuries. Which is how Chris Argent came to be sitting in his kitchen on a dim Saturday afternoon.

The man was…imposing. He was clearly experienced and didn’t really have any stomach for nonsense. The type that Stiles hated the most, honestly. His dad had no idea that this was happening. But there needed to be a bridge between the two groups, and by default, Stiles was Scott’s emissary. Which meant that he was, once again by default, the peacekeeper.

He had made lunch, and Chris eyed the plate like it was covered in vipers. Stiles offered him tea, he refused it. Stiles offered him coffee, he refused it. There really wasn’t anything that he could do to please the guy, so he just jumped straight into the conversation.

“So, never done this before. Don’t really know where to start.”

“I want your alpha to stay away from my daughter. Plain and simple.” Chris’ face hadn’t changed expression since he’d walked in.

“All due respect, Allison is a fully grown woman, capable of making her own choices. I don’t really think you’re in a position to be making any of them for her. If she wants to end things with Scott, fine. I’ll deal with the fallout. But she needs to be the one here, not you.”

Stiles didn’t want to come off as an asshole. But Chris’ attitude was terrible, and Scott hadn’t done anything wrong. He had been human when he got together with Allison, and the fact that he was now a werewolf was another matter entirely. If Allison wanted to end things with Scott, then she needed to be the one to say so.

“Look, I don’t know all the details of what had happened with you and that feral. And I understand that it’s probably been a rather tremendous adjustment. But we have a code, and we have rules. And Allison may be grown, but her judgement is skewed. So, Scott will stay away from my daughter on his own, or I will ensure that he does.”

Stiles felt every hair on his body bristle at that comment. Ever since it came to light that Allison and hers were hunters, things had been…Tense. Scott, was of course, distraught. And Stiles was, of course, worried beyond all comprehension. He’d had enough of hunters to last a lifetime.

That being said, there had been no hostilities. Chris and his hadn’t made any moves. Hadn’t harassed them. In fact, they’d made a point to leave them alone. Which Stiles appreciated more than anything else. Now, Chris was in his kitchen, and he’d just threatened Scott. There was no subtlety involved. And he certainly wasn’t going to be subtle either.

The hunter, thinking the conversation was over, got up to leave without further ado. Stiles, smiled viciously. And Chris found himself thrown back down into the chair, hands pinned behind his back. As if invisibly bound. The hunter, seemed to be in shock. And then, there was a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. He knew what Stiles was.

“I invited you here under the pretense that this was going to be a peaceful affair. Now that I know it isn’t, a word of caution. Threaten my alpha again, and you’ll spend the next thirty years in a psych hospital, having your diaper changed.”

The hunter seemed to be at a loss for words. Then, he smiled. Just as wickedly as Stiles had. Chris slammed himself backwards. Smashing the chair against the floor. In a bid, for which he thought, he’d be free. The man was surprisingly disappointed when he found that the magical binds on his hands hadn’t receded. This time, Stiles used his magic to pin him against the wall.

“Cute trick, but I’ve got a lot more. Ready to keep talking, or do you wanna keep this charade up?”

“You’re a lot stronger than you look. But if anything happens to me, my men will decimate you.” Chris was trying to be intimidating, and Stiles wasn’t having it.

“Listen, I’m gonna level with you. These scars? I got them from tangling with that feral alpha. I managed to take that asshole down, so what makes you think that your little band of merry men would do anything other than piss themselves?”

Stiles was angry now. And it wasn’t often that he found himself in this position. But Chris was the gritty, experienced hunter type. And Stiles knew damn good and well that he would only respond a certain way. So, he made a point to ensure that the man knew exactly who he was dealing with.

“I can see that Scott isn’t the only one I have to worry about.”

“No, he isn’t. And to clarify, I’m not for sale. I’ve had people like you approach me before. And I told them to shove it.”

“So you’ve killed hunters as well as werewolves.” Goddammit. Stiles was hoping to avoid that conversation. He hadn’t even told his dad that he’d killed some of the hunters that were trailing him. He hadn’t mean to. But one or two of his fireballs launched with more force than he had intended. And the force the impact was lethal.

“Listen, I’m not cry my guts out, sobbing about all the horrible shit I and my friends have been through. Yes, I killed a feral alpha. Yes, I accidentally killed two hunters that were actively trying to make me into a magical slave. And you know what the really shitty part is?”

“Pray tell, because I’m just that interested.” Chris’ voice dripped with sarcasm.

“I hate myself. Even though I had every single right to defend my life and my freedom, I hate myself. I hate that I hurt those people. I hate that their families and friends had to bury them. Even if they were assholes. I hate myself every time I remember that I killed two people. So, you, you arrogant son of a bitch, don’t get to lecture or threaten me on a goddamn thing.”

Stiles was breathing heavily now. He could feel his heart hammering away in his chest. He hadn’t been this angry in a while. And it wasn’t the most opportune time to be revisiting emotional trauma. Because that’s what it was, trauma.

The fireballs that he’d launched had been at random. He was scared and running and tired. It had been meant to be a distraction. A façade. A smokescreen. Instead, two hunters were dead with their breastplates smashed to smithereens. He’d heard the bones crunch when they made impact.

The only other people that knew were Derek and his pack. And now, Chris. He didn’t want to talk about it. Because if he had talked about it, then it would’ve been far closer than he would’ve liked. He wanted all of that, every bit of every horrible thing he did, to be a thousand miles away.

Stiles didn’t know how Chris and Allison and the others dealt with this kind of thing. He was terrified half the time. And bordering on manic the other half. The fact that he was alive was something. That his friends were alive. That they were here and well. But some days, even that wasn’t enough to dissuade the guilt gnawing away at his soul.

“I’ve no issue breaking a few bones, but I killed two people. And not even my best friend knows about it. So please, save your pompous, self-righteous bullshit for somebody else. Cause I ain’t here for it.”

“I can see that. But it doesn’t settle the matter.” Chris’ eyes quivered with something close to fear, mixed with something close to rage.

“Actually, it does. Scott and Allison are both adults. They need to, as adults, figure this out for themselves. And you need to let them.”

Chris’ face pinched in that awful way. The way that let Stiles know that, while he didn’t agree, he knew that there really wasn’t any other option. Stiles released the hunter from his grip, and the man stepped down to the floor with ease. Almost as if being magically thrown against the wall was an everyday thing.

They part on less than desirable terms, and Stiles has a sinking feeling in his gut. There wasn’t really anything else he could do, do he didn’t do anything. He kept the details sparse, and Scott was told to watch his step. He left out the part where Chris had threatened the alpha. It didn’t seem important at the time. It would’ve only made Scott more nervous than he already was.

Stiles tried his best to deal with what was left after the face. Jackson was still being difficult. He had tried, for once, to set aside their petty differences, and act like mature individuals. Stiles wanted this to work. And to make it work, he had to figure out how to get to Jackson.

Lydia was another matter altogether. They were still trying to figure out exactly what she was. The only real lead that they had was that she screamed the day that Stiles fought the hunters. The day he met Derek and the others. That was it. Well, and the fact that several of the hunters died. Which was a disturbing thing to think about.

He was buried neck deep in books and google searches when there was a knock at his door. At the very least, it wasn’t someone with an ill or malicious intent. His magic would’ve warned him if it was. He pays no mind to who it could’ve been when he answered it. Peter Hale was looking slightly less douchey this time around. But the way he was smiling was not something Stiles ever wanted to see again.

***

Peter Hale was in his living room, sipping on a cup of coffee that he didn’t seem to be enjoying. Stiles figured it was because the man had snooty tastes. In clothes and drinks. Fuck it, he was a small town Californian boy who had held one part time job. Peter would have to get over it.

There was only a certain level of discomfort in regards to the man being here. When Stiles was rescued by Derek, the two hadn’t spoken. Peter’s only interaction was to observer from afar with a slightly obscure aura about him. Stiles didn’t dislike the man, but he certainly didn’t trust him.

There was a sense of danger that came with him. He, at present, was not a threat. Stiles’ magic could tell that much. But it could also tell that, if Peter wanted to, he could very much indeed be a threat. There was a predatory gleam in the man’s eye as he continued to drink the coffee he didn’t like.

He was afraid to ask why he was here. Why he had come all this way, and not Derek or Laura. Or literally anyone else. Stiles didn’t want the man in his house. there was a certain edge to him that he couldn’t explain. And there wasn’t any way that he’d be turning his back any time soon.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here.”

“Yes, given that this is the first time we’ve actually spoken.” Peter eyed him like he was a quivering rabbit.

“There’s some manner of…well, trouble back home. And my nephew, bullheaded as he can be, didn’t want to ask for help. To say nothing of my niece. She’d have sooner shot herself in the foot than give you a phone call.”

He wasn’t lying. Laura hated him on the principal of the matter. He didn’t know why. The she-wolf was intent on finding any and every excuse to be angry with him. She’d barely tolerated his presence in the house. Peter was understating things when he’d said that she’d never call him.

“So, if they didn’t want my help, or simply refused it, then why are you here? Cause I feel like this is the part where you tell me that they don’t know that you came.”

“Correct. Clever thing, aren’t you. Yes, they don’t know I’m here. But they will figure out that I’m up to something. And we won’t have long after that.” Peter hadn’t stopped smiling.

“And what might that be, exactly?”

“The removal of a particular party that wishes to destroy what’s left of us.”

Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat. He had heard, quite loudly, from Laura, that their family had suffered quite a tremendous loss. That hunters had killed quite a few of them. And that they were still recovering from that. That they were still rebuilding. And now, there was another group that wanted them dead. Or, at the very least, out of the way.

“So, on the off chance I go with you, what are the chances that Laura horribly maims and or mauls me?”

“Approximately thirty-five percent, higher if Derek or I don’t intervene. But worry not, I will do my upmost to ensure that you remain intact.” Peter finished the last dregs of the coffee, grimacing to the last drop. Stiles made a note to buy the man a better coffee if he ever got the opportunity.

“I’ll need to talk with Scott. We’ve got a lot going on our end as well.”

“Feel free to bring the whole pack with you. The more the merrier.”

“I feel like that, in this case, the more would lead only to more mauling.” Peter didn’t say anything. He just left a card with an address and a phone number. Smiling as he left. Stiles felt all the tension release from his body the moment the man stepped outside.

He texted Scott as soon as he could, and the alpha arrived suspiciously fast. Eyes a glaring red that spoke volumes. He was pissed, and didn’t stop scent marking Stiles for at least half an hour. Even though Peter came nowhere near touching him.

Lydia and Jackson arrived not long after. The latter being….perturbed? He definitely wasn’t pleased. When Jackson had walked into the house, he idly brushed over Stiles. Effectively, for the first time, scent marking him. Which was a shock to everyone. Stiles knew damn good and well that the wolf didn’t particularly care for him. But he certainly didn’t care for the idea of another beta being in his house.

When the whole shit storm of territory marking was over, Stiles explained the situation. And the fact that Peter hadn’t given that many details. Scott, to no one’s surprise, wasn’t in any way keen on the idea.

Lydia, remained undecided. She didn’t have all the fact, and wasn’t keen on meeting any more wolves when she nothing about them. Much to everyone’s surprise, Jackson was actually on board with the idea. Not because he cared about the Hales or anything that threatened them. But because he had the wonderful idea that Scott could learn a thing or two from them.

Stiles wasn’t really sure what he wanted to do. But he knew that he owed Derek and Laura. Even if the latter wanted nothing to do with him. So, they decided that they would at least hear what the actual problem was. Then, they could make their decisions from there. Scott was only a slight asshole about the whole situation.

***

There wasn’t a grand procession that greeted them when they arrived. Peter and Derek were standing on the porch. Peter smiling like a madman, in a good way though. Derek looked, honestly, like he was constipated. There wasn’t a sign of anyone else.

Scott isn’t a complete tool when they walk up. And Jackson keeps his comments to himself. Peter’s smile cracks at the edges when he sees Lydia. There is something that Stiles recognizes rather quickly. Fear. Just straight fear. Peter was afraid of her. And if he was afraid of her, then he knew what she was. And that was a topic they were going to have to discuss at a later date.

Derek welcomes them warmly. And Stiles can tell he’s about the only one whose going to do so. Stiles can feel waves of anger emanating from the inside of the house. He doesn’t need to be a genius to figure out who their coming from.

Just as he walks inside, he’s enveloped in warm arms, and the scent of sunshine covered grass. Erica giggled into his neck. Happily greeting him for some reason. He had saved Boyd, who she was dating. But since that, they hadn’t had any interaction whatsoever. Needless to say, he was rather confused on the matter.

Scott growled, along with Derek, at the beta’s overly intimate gesture of greeting. Scott, Stiles understood. He just assumed that Derek was displeased with his beta’s blatant lack of boundaries. Honestly, Stiles didn’t mind. He was just confused as to why it was happening. Peter was still smiling.

Introductions were short, and not all together unpleasant. At the very least, there was less hostility than when Scott and Derek met each other. Laura was angry, but she was unhospitable towards Stiles. In fact, there seemed to be a slight hint of relief in her posture. Almost as if, at least some small part, was glad that he was here.

The betas seemed happy that they had company. Isaac and Scott along surprisingly well. Erica and Lydia were interested in idle gossip and girl things. Stiles figured that Erica felt akin to Lydia, given that the both of them were of the same variety. Just a slightly different cut.

When they idle chatter faded away, along with Laura’s anger at Peter, they got done to the reason that they were here in the first place. Which, as it turns out, was a lot worse than Stiles had thought. The first thing that had come to mind, was that the remaining hunters had regrouped. And were back for some asshole revenge scheme. Turns out, there were worse things that hunters in the world.

“I’m sorry, but let me get this straight. There is a pack of alphas. That’s an actual thing that exists.” Stiles was trying to wrap his head around the concept.

“Yes, and they’re coming for us. I was trying to put together a plan when my uncle decided to supersede my authority and contact you.” It was clear that Laura still was bitter about Peter’s actions.

“But why you guys? What’s so special about the two of you that this pack is targeting you specifically?” Stiles tried not to sound like an asshole, but it didn’t always work out that way.

“Let’s just say our bloodline is rather….unique. And that’s makes us prime targets for this kind of thing.”

Stiles had, in some small part, done his research. The name Hale was full of intrigue, and from what few credible sources he could find, they were indeed an interesting bloodline. The town they lived in was founded by them. And their entire line produced spectacular alphas. Or so the texts said. But it was the news articles that were of more interest.

There were plenty of those. They called it the greatest tragedy in Beacon Hills history. An entire family, burned alive in their beds. Save for four. Derek, Laura, Peter, and Cora. They were the only survivors. And that’s what the Hale pack consisted of now. That, and Malia. Who Stiles didn’t know the relation for. Though, she did bear a striking resemblance to Peter. Both in appearance and demeanor.

They had rebuilt themselves from scratch. And Stiles remembered that Laura had something about them losing enough to hunters. Which implied, at the very least, they were somehow involved in what had happened. There were plenty of questions that came along with that realization. But that would have to wait.

“The man leading them has an interest in us. And he wants at least one of us to join his ranks. He thinks it’ll make for the so called ‘perfect’ pack. But we don’t have any interest in it. In fact, I’d rather them dead than anything else.” Laura’s eyes quivered in disgust. She was thinking about something unpleasant.

“So, what’s the game plan then? Do you guys have any kind of defense? A strategy for when they might be arriving? Anything?”

As it turns out, they did not. Any packs that they knew before the fire had refused to help them. They wanted nothing to do with this so called alpha pack. And Stiles didn’t blame them, they did sound rather terrifying. And that left them with just themselves. Which wasn’t much against of juiced up alphas.

Laura explained how the pack formed in the first place. Which was by slaughtering their betas, as well as their emissaries. Absorbing their power and taking it for themselves. Which left them with five outrageously strong alpha werewolves. All of whom had no issue in murdering their own. Let alone anyone who got in their way.

So, now Stiles had to come up with a list of what they could do. Scott was trying to decide on whether or not he’d be fighting, if it came to that. As it was only him and Jackson. And they weren’t exactly seasoned fighters. Years of lacrosse in high school left them with excellent reflexes and stamina. But not much else. Lydia was out of the question entirely.

He had several ideas that would’ve been rather straightforward and quick to be implemented. It was actually all rather easy. His magic had no issue in being used for things like defense and protection. So long as Stiles didn’t use his powers for malicious or malignant intent, he’d be fine.

He had worked for several hours. Thankfully, by some miracle, he had everything he needed in the kitchen. The Hales had a large variety of herbs that while used in cooking, had magical properties as well. Which saved a considerable amount of time.

The betas watched him intently. Never interfering with his work, but hovering, and on occasion, resting their heads on his shoulder as he did his spellwork. Once again, Scott got jealous and growled under his breath, but otherwise was a good sport about the whole thing. Derek, who was less inclined, shooed his betas off with red eyes.

When it was done, well the first part, Stiles was a hot sweaty mess. Smeared with ash and various ground herbs. The final part of the spell was actually a short inaction. One that would protect the house from fire and other elements. Which meant that no one would be burning in their beds ever again.

Cora left the room when he was done. There was a weight to her steps, and Laura trailed after her. Peter looked like someone had kicked a puppy. Stiles didn’t really understand their reactions. He figured that the mention that he’d protected their house, it had brought up unpleasant memories. His wording always was shit.

The next spell was a little more complicated. And the spellwork a little more draining. This time, for whatever reason, the betas stayed away. Keeping their distance as he continued to work. It didn’t take any longer than the protection enchantments, it just required more of his power. More of his focus.

When he was done, he had four iron talismans. Ready to be implemented and set to use. The only real issue now was the last ingredient. Which, decidedly, did not go over well with Laura. She had returned from consoling Cora, and was less than enthused of what Stiles was asking of her.

“Why the hell do you need my blood?” the alpha’s eyes were red.

“Because, it needs the blood from the, quote, ‘master of the house’. You and Derek are the alphas, effectively making you the masters of the house. The talismans need a part of you for them to activate. Three drops of blood is the easiest and most effective way to meet this requirement.”

“Perhaps, Stiles, explaining what these talismans are for will help my niece understand a little better.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake….They’re warding talismans. The masters of the house decided who is and who is not welcome in their home. They can, by right, revoke their welcome at any time. The magic will make it very difficult for anyone who isn’t welcome to enter. And very difficult for them to stay.”

It was an old type of magic. One that Stiles enjoyed. Masters of the house had a large amount of power and authority. And magic that centered on that authority was profoundly robust. If there were people that Derek and Laura wanted to keep out, this was the best method to do so.

“It doesn’t kill them, does it?” Derek asked with a sharp edge of concern

“No. magic like that is…disgusting. More akin to a curse than a protection. The talismans will cause all manner of unpleasant symptoms. Migraines. Vomiting. Fever. Chills. Body aches. Basically making it impossible for anything living to enter or stay here against your consent.”

Laura seemed to be okay with that idea. Less so with the fact that it needed her blood, even if it was the smallest amount, to work. Derek was okay, if hesitant. The both of them applied their blood to the talismans. Which Stiles proceeded to bury at the four cardinal points around the property. He felt their magic take effect as he covered the last one with dirt.

After that, he really was a hot mess. He was covered in sweat and dirt and all manner of magical implements. It was honestly refreshing. He hadn’t done any real magic in a while. It felt good to use his powers. It felt good to do good.

When he got back to the house, several of the betas recoiled. No doubt from his stench. He didn’t blame them. He politely asked for a shower, and was shown upstairs. The water was the perfect pressure, and the soaps were only lightly perfumed. Peter had promised to bring him a change of clothes. 

When he got out of the shower, there was a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants sitting in the counter. Stiles hadn’t even heard the man come in. He dresses quickly and heads back downstairs. Scott had left with Isaac and Jackson to go and get pizza. So Stiles settle himself in the living room, thumbing through channels. Not really paying attention. He hadn’t noticed that Derek had come up behind him. That is until the alpha was growling next to his ear, eyes glaring red in Stiles peripheral.

“Ummm, hi?” Stiles was very confused, and maybe a little aroused. Derek was…attractive. And the whole sculpted features, plus puppy eyes did things to him, okay. But he was still concerned as to why the alpha was this close to him. And now he seemed to be…purring?

“You okay there, sourwolf?” Stiles’ words seemed to snap Derek to attention. As the man jolted back, shaking his head. Eye dimming back to that gorgeous hazel green that seemed to have gold at the edges. He appeared to be out of his daze. Though there were still plenty of questions.

“You’re wearing my clothes.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

“Umm, Peter left me some clothes while I was taking a shower. Didn’t know they were yours.”

“He did.” Derek didn’t say anything else. Instead, he all but stomped away. A slight anger in the weight of his steps. Stiles could’ve only he assumed he was about to go and hit Peter. Wolves were funny about scent. And the man had just mixed Stiles’ and Derek’s together. Perhaps that perturbed the alpha. Perhaps it didn’t. Stiles honestly didn’t care.

He ended up falling asleep waiting for Scott to get back with the pizza. When the door opened, his friend’s eyes went red, and his face went sour. Stiles knew he was aggravated. But the alpha made no further comment on the matter. He just simply ran his hand over the back of Stiles’ neck, and set the pizza down. There were better things to be concerned with. Namely, that Stiles would have to ensure that he and Lydia actually got to eat in a house full of werewolves.

***

They had been at Derek’s for almost a week now. The sheriff had called twice. Once to check up, and the second time was to remind Stiles not to do anything stupid. His dad had always been concerned where Stiles’ magic was concerned. He was one of the few people that actually knew what his son was truly capable of. And that meant that he would constantly check to make sure that he wasn’t overstepping his boundaries.

The Hales seemed to acclimate to their presence rather quickly. Laura still wasn’t entirely happy that Peter had contacted them in the first place. But the others seemed to enjoy the company. And Stiles was rather interested in how other packs functioned.

Derek and Laura were the alphas, and contrary to popular belief, were not aggressive or forceful with the betas. The betas actually seemed to want to listen to them. They did as they were asked, with only a few sly comments in-between. It was all playful banter.

Laura, while angrier than her brother, was actually the softer of the two. While Derek was a tad more no nonsense. He didn’t like Erica’s constant remarks. He didn’t care for how Isaac sometimes dragged his feet. In fact, the only one that he seemed to really get along with was Boyd. Who happily followed instructions without any hesitation.

It was an interesting dynamic. And one that in no way applied to Scott and Jackson. The two of them still weren’t getting along. And it was causing a certain amount of tension. Stiles had to remind them, more than once, that they were guests, and that their constant bickering, however small, was rude.

Lydia fit in seamlessly, and had no issue regarding any of the Hales. Though she kept her distance from Peter. Ever since they’d arrived, the man had kept a watchful eye on her. There was still that lingering look of terror in the man’s eye. He knew what she was, and even if he didn’t, he knew something along the lines that could lead them to the truth.

Stiles didn’t want to push the man, and he certainly didn’t want to offend him. He knew, for the moment, Peter was working with them. That he wanted them here specifically because he thought they could help. Stiles also knew that Peter wasn’t someone that you crossed if you wanted to keep your ability to walk upright.

So, he avoided the subject. What he was having a harder time avoiding, was Derek. Or, more accurately, he was having a hard time avoiding Derek’s behavior. The alpha was….intent. On what, Stiles didn’t know. But they had gone shopping to get Stiles and the others some new clothes while they were staying. And Derek had happily given Stiles his credit card.

Lydia was rather overjoyed on the matter. She had…expensive tastes. And sharing Erica’s closet had run its course. Stiles gently reminded her to go easy. Derek smiled goofily and waved as they left. Stiles hadn’t understood exactly why he was so happy.

Scott seemed perturbed, but otherwise said nothing. He and Allison were texting. Trying to figure things out between the two of them. She had been pissed that her dad had come and threatened Scott. And, as Stiles assumed, she had asserted that she was capable of making their own choices.

There was also the thing where Derek seemed to be annoyed when any of the betas were around or hanging on Stiles. They were friendly, as werewolves tended to be. Physical boundaries weren’t the same as if they’d been human. He didn’t mind all that much. But Derek, for some reason, seemed to mind quite a lot.

There was also the few times that Stiles had cooked. He and the others were staying as guests, so he felt it only right to contribute in some way. After his mom had died, he had to learn how to cook. Ordering out every day got expensive. And frozen dinners weren’t all that conducive to his father’s already unstable health.

Derek was…unnerved. Stiles didn’t seem to understand why the alpha was suddenly so uncomfortable around him. Or when he really did anything. There was also the fact that, whenever they ate, the only spot seemed to be next to Derek. Almost as if the others had planned it that way. And every time they did eat, Scott seemed, once again, annoyed.

Everything with this so called alpha pack was stressful enough. Now, he was just wondering what the hell was going on. He got his answer one day, when Erica rubbed her face against Stiles’ neck. Playfully, of course. Derek actually popped his claws out on that one. The she-wolf scampered away, giggling as she went. Then, it clicked for Stiles.

Derek was into him. Like, ‘into’ him into him. He felt like an idiot for not seeing it sooner. It would’ve explained everything. Stiles had been seeing things through the lens of a human. And not as a werewolf, as he should’ve. It also explained Scott’s behavior, and as to why he seemed so annoyed with Derek for literally everything.

When he confronted his friend on the matter, Scott tried to run. But Stiles had long since learned that trick. And was able to keep his friend put, front and center. He wanted answers. And while Derek was an amicable person, he wasn’t the best with words.

“It wasn’t my place to tell you Stiles.” Scott couldn’t even look him in the eye.

“Look, I know that you’re still adjusting to the whole being a werewolf. But when you know the hot guy has a crush on your friend, you don’t keep your friend in the dark.”

“It’s different for us. It’s…Look, I don’t like the fact that Derek is into you. Not because I don’t like him, but…my wolf thinks he’s competition. Like you’re gonna leave for him.”

Now, Stiles understood what was going on with Scott. Everything that they’d been through over the last few months…The rogue. Being turned. Stiles nearly dying. Being chased by hunters. The alpha pack. It was a lot to process for anybody. Especially for four people who had barely graduated high school. Scott wasn’t just mindlessly jealous or territorial. He was afraid.

“Look, even if Derek and I, on the off chance, got together, that doesn’t mean I’m just gonna drop you. You’re my friend, and my alpha. And I’m your emissary. That isn’t going to change.”

“I know…I just…Look, you should talk to him about it. He’s the one whose been flirting with you. Even if it was in a way that you didn’t really understand.”

Stiles laughed to himself. Derek, while a good alpha and overall good person, wasn’t the best with words. So, yeah, there needed to be a conversation. And Scott, the idiot, at the very least, wasn’t going to try and cockblock him.

He found Peter in the foyer. Speaking with Laura. The two of them turned their heads as Stiles approached. Laura no longer looked at him like he was the worst thing in the world. Peter, as he always did, smiled in that wicked way that meant that he had been planning something. Stiles knew exactly what. Now that he thought about it, this was probably one reason that Peter had contacted him in the first place.

“When I get done talking with Derek, you can fully expecting an itching hex being placed on every piece of clothing you own.” Stiles was only half serious.

“That’s fine. I’ve more than enough money to replace my current wardrobe several times over. So long as you and my nephew _finally _resolve all the UST between the two of you. I’m tired of the house smelling like arousal.”

Stiles felt his face turn red with heat, and Laura elbowed her uncle in the ribs. Peter curved to the side, mocking the pain, and laughing like a school child. He really was going to put an itching hex on all of his clothes.

The betas, the little bastards, smiled just as badly as Peter. When Stiles walked by, Erica pumped her fists in excitement. And Isaac gave him a little thumbs up for encouragement. Boyd just waved and went back to doting on Erica. Stiles was thinking about hexing their clothes to.

Derek was, as Stiles thought, in his room. The alpha was, on occasion, a bit of recluse. Who enjoyed the company of a good book as opposed to his pack. Which was understandable. As the alpha, the betas often got into play fights. An effort to vie for his attention.

He jumps up from his bed when Stiles enters. In hindsight, he should’ve knocked. It was just manners. That, and barging in on an alpha’s private space, their den, could end rather….horribly. Namely, some choice mauling and general carnage. Stiles made a note to apologize at a later date.

“I’m an idiot.” The words came out before he even thought about what he was going to say.

“Okay? Is there a follow up to that, or are you done?” Derek looked at him like he had two heads.

“I’m an idiot, and so are you. Words, sourwolf. Words are good. And you need to use them. Because I’m not a wolf, and don’t respond to wolfy flirting.” The tips of Derek’s ears turned pink. And Stiles had to surpress a laugh.

“I’m not…I haven’t been in a relationship for a while. I…Dammit…This wasn’t supposed to happen. Peter called you for help, and he…”

“Did everything in his douchey power to stick us together. On the plus side, I legitimately like you, and am more than willing to go on a date once this whole alpha pack business is settled.”

“OR, we could go on right now. Not anywhere. Just at the house, away from the pack.”

Goddammit. Derek had no right to be that adorable. He had no fucking right. Stiles felt his stomach flutter. Shit, he wasn’t some hormonal sixteen year old popping a boner at every attractive person he saw. This wasn’t fair. He wondered what Derek was feeling. What was going through his brain as all of this was going on.

Stiles agreed to the date. And Derek went to work setting up the details. He didn’t have much time to stay embarrassed before he became annoyed. Because as soon as he left Derek’s room, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd were all standing around the corner. Smiling like the devil. Stiles flipped them all of as he walked past. Hopefully, beyond all measure of hope, people would keep their comments to themselves.

***

As it turned out, Derek was a romantic. And a rather skilled cook. And not subtle in the slightest. Stiles appreciated every bit of it. The others, once the jokes were out of the way, gave them their space. Space and time. They had learned a little bit more about each other. With plenty left to go. Even with the potential of the alpha pack bearing down, Stiles was actually grateful for the sense of normalcy. Well, it was about as close to normalcy as he could get anyway.

They stayed, for the most part, in the woods. They went on an actual picnic. It was adorable. He learned a lot about Derek. Like how he had three bachelor degrees, and was currently working on his first masters. He had said that he disliked being still, and had more than enough money and time.

Stiles had only taken a few courses, and was something close to an associates degree. With Scott being turned into a werewolf, and the hunters, and now this, he hadn’t had any time to renew his classes. Hell, he hadn’t even decided on a major. Derek assured him that his magic would make anything he wanted to do possible.

Stiles had often thought about what he wanted to do. His magic could tell him a lot about people, and he had thought about something in the medical field. He’d even talked with Melissa about it once or twice. Derek seemed enamored with him, listening to everything he had to say.

When they kiss for the first time, it wasn’t what Stiles had expected. It wasn’t soft. But it wasn’t rough and passionate either. They had been laying in the grass. Derek had been looking at the clouds, and Stiles had been looking at him. When the alpha realized it, he leaned over, and he tasted like sunshine.

Stiles rolled himself on top of Derek, lightly pinning his hands above his head. He hadn’t been with anyone in…well…a while. So he may have gone a little overboard. He didn’t push and Derek didn’t shove. Until Stiles latched his teeth onto Derek’s neck. Playfully, like they were teenagers. But the other man seemed to take it far more seriously, and warned Stiles to back off. Saying that they weren’t going to have sex in the forest. Though the idea certainly was an intriguing one.

When they got back to the house, Derek shot a glare towards Erica. Who was exactly five seconds away from making one her usual comments. Scott just huffed. Jackson, the smug bastard, smiled like it was the funniest thing in the world. Thankfully, Derek had an excellent healing factor, so there were no hickies to speak of. Things were good. Until they weren’t.

Being the one who set and activated the talismans, Stiles was keenly attuned to them. And therefore, felt when someone entered the boundaries of the property. There were two of them and they were…wrong. They were alphas, that he could feel. But they were wrong. Like they shouldn’t have existed.

Derek was the next one to realize. As he had picked up on Stiles’ alertness. Scott was the next. There was something that keyed him on the situation, despite being at the back of the house. Away from both Stiles and Derek. When they arrive at the front door, they knock three times. And everyone holds their breath.

“They’re not here to hurt us, the talismans would’ve prevented them from approaching if that was the case.”

“And you think we should let them in?” Derek looked towards the door, and then back to Stiles. He looked to Laura, who looked to Peter, who looked to Cora.

“The talismans activate if someone approaches with malicious intent. Or if you or Laura rejects their right to be here. So, if you do that, it’ll be difficult for them to stay. It’s up to you. But I’ll protect you if need be.”

Derek smiled that soft smile of his. The one that Stiles had only seen on occasion. He knew that the alpha trusted him. And to an extent, Laura did as well. The young woman gave a curt nod of her head, silently saying that she believed that Stiles could and would protect them from whatever walked through the door.

What walked through the door were two, rather attractive, identical twins. Stiles knew they were alphas, and he knew that they had blood on their hands. His magic was screaming. Screaming very, very loudly. They may not have come with any ill intent, but that could easily change in a moment’s notice.

He stands at the back, behind Derek, Laura, and Scott. They were the present alphas. And he didn’t want any attention drawn to himself. Wolves always knew, on some level, that he had magic. If it came to blows, he wanted his powers to be a surprise. And for the twins to get caught off guard.

The two of them silently inspect the room. And then each other. And then the room again. For the most part, they are unsurprised. Derek and Laura’s presence are expected. As well as Peter’s and Cora’s. They seemed intrigued and somewhat curious about Isaac, Erica, and Boyd. And they’re definitely paying attention to Scott’s presence. They weren’t expecting a third alpha to be here.

“Hello, I’m Aiden, and this is my brother Ethan. We’re here on behalf of Deucalion.”

“We know, and we refuse his offer. Now, get out.” Laura hadn’t wasted any time. She knew why the twins were here, and she didn’t want them here any longer than it took to tell them to fuck off.

Ethan looked worried, as did Aiden. Which wasn’t the reaction Stiles was expecting. He figured they would’ve been…well…happy. Happy that Laura and Derek refused. Happy that they were going to put up a fight. Happy that they were going to resist. Because that meant that there would be bloodshed, and that meant they’d get to revel in it.

“Consider the offer. Deucalion isn’t one to accept refusal. Though, it seems that there’s another prospect right in front of us.” Aiden’s eyes trained towards Scott. And the alpha found himself pinned against a wall.

His twin moved to attack, when he found himself surrounded by Laura and Derek. Stiles hadn’t meant to lash out. Just like he hadn’t with Chris. There was very little that could make him lose control of his magic. Or for his magic to react on its own without his active, knowledgeable consent. Someone threatening his friends was one of them.

“Hi, McCall Pack emissary. Pleasure to meet you. We’re rejecting the offer as well. Now, as Laura said, get the fuck out.” Aiden was struggling against his hold. Eyes glaring red, fangs dripping with rage. Stiles just tightened it until something snapped. Probably a rib. The alphas got the message.

The both of them scurried out like whipped puppies. Stiles’ skin still vibrated with energy. His magic was still screaming. What brought him back was Scott’s hand on his shoulder. And Derek’s face cradled in the crook of his neck. He was angry, and anger mixed with nearly unlimited magic was not a good combination.

The other wolves had actually flinched away from him. When they had first met, they’d only seen the results of Stiles’ magic _after _he’d used it. Now, they’d been up close and personal with what he could do. Which was restrain an alpha werewolf without all that much effort. No wonder Laura didn’t like him.

It wasn’t a time for fear though. They had set the rails in motion. They had rejected Deucalion’s offer. And, now, they also had to figure out why Ethan and Aiden were so interested in Scott. More so, why they were concerned with the fact that Laura had rejected their offer.

They hadn’t known about Stiles magic. They hadn’t known how strong he was. But they weren’t afraid when Laura had said no. they weren’t angry. It had been concern. And that was a strange thing to think about. Because they had already added who knows how many alphas. Having entire packs slaughtered for the sake of power.

So why were they so concerned with the fact that Laura and Derek wanted nothing to do with them? Why did they suddenly shift their attention to Scott? There were plenty of questions, but for the moment, Stiles just wanted to sit down and drink a glass of water.

The betas, for the first time since they’d first met, gave him space. It felt horrible, to have them be afraid of him. to have them go back to how things were when they crossed paths in the woods. To be treated, almost, like a stranger.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Scott’s eyes were somewhere Stiles didn’t want to follow, and he knew that it would take a while for things to calm down.

“I did. I don’t like when people threaten my friends. Be they power crazy alphas, or dickwad hunters.”

“You’re magic hurt you before protecting me, I don’t want it to hurt you again.” Stiles felt his stomach rile. They hadn’t, since it happened, discussed what Stiles had done at length. The magic he had attempted to perform. The powers that he tried to violate and to conquer. He had done it to help Scott. To give his friend a normal life.

He’d failed, despite his best efforts. And as a result, he’d nearly died. Nearly died from a feral, lost man who had no more sense than a bag of rocks. His face and body were marked forever. And his best friend had been forced to take a life. Things were better now. That being said, they were about to get not so good again.

Scott doesn’t say anything else. Neither does Stiles. They just sit there, and Scott buries his face into his best friend’s shoulder. They hadn’t done this in weeks. Namely because of Derek and Stiles dating. But also because things had been somewhat insane. Now, they were just content to sit here. And Stiles had no desire to do much of anything else.

***

Stiles was walking on a razor’s edge. He’d spent the last two days reinforcing the magic in and around the house. There wasn’t much else he could do before he started crossing some lines. The betas were training fiercely. Going over drill, after drill, after drill. Peter was drawing up plans. Lydia was nestled on the couch, with Jackson’s head in her lap.

Derek and Laura were trying, desperately, to find some manner of allies. There weren’t many people who were calling back. Those that did, refused. It seems just about everyone had heard about this Deucalion fellow. And absolutely no wanted to be in the man’s crosshairs. Stiles hadn’t even met the man, and he was ready to shit himself with fear.

The one person they could count on, was Deaton. He had, for some time, been preparing a few things. And once he’d heard of Stiles’ magic, had kicked those efforts into overdrive. Because, apparently, Stiles wasn’t supposed to be able to use that kind of magic. Because, according to Deaton, the curse his magic had placed on him would’ve hampered his efforts. Which led to a whole other system of fuckery.

Stiles didn’t really have access to any magical study materials. So, he left that part to Deaton, and as to why he was able to use magic like he did without any form of consequence. Derek and the others didn’t seem all that concerned with it. Not really. His magic was holding, and they were safe. For now.

Things weren’t going well. His father was getting antsy, wanting him home, and away from danger. Stiles explained, with as few details as possible, that this wasn’t something he was going to run away from. That these people were in danger, and he owed them. He also left the part out about Derek. Because he certain didn’t need _that _talk. He had enough stress already.

The rest of it was trying to learn and learn some more. He’d never had any formal training. Stiles had been self-taught with his magic almost all his life. There had been a few pointers, here and there. But for the most part, he was a solo act.

Deaton offered him advice in the form of cryptic clues and half-assed directions. On some level, the man was still afraid of what Stiles could do. As he’d said, he had the power to become a god, if he trained long enough. Or, he could become a horrible, awful tyrant that slaughtered millions.

Truthfully, that reality frightened Stiles. His entire life had been spent on controlling his magic. And making sure that it stayed secret. He had never really put any effort into seeing what he could actually, truly do with his power. Until it came time to try and make Scott human again. After that particular spell backfired, he hadn’t tried anything drastic again. He understood, well enough, that he may have to try something drastic if they were going to win.

Laura and Derek’s calls still came up empty. Deaton trained, or his version of training, Stiles as best as he could given the circumstances. Scott was texting and or calling Allison all throughout the day. They hadn’t settled on what they were as of yet. It was the one thing that allowed the young alpha to distract himself from the whole situation.

Lydia and Jackson were together, as always. Nervous, like the rest of them. But their presence, where each other was concerned, was calming. They had no idea what they were going to do. Lydia had absolutely zero fighting capability. And Jackson, while superbly athletic, wasn’t much better. Scott as well. Stiles had to rely on his magic. None of them were really experienced in the hand-to-hand arena.

Derek offered to train them, and train he did. Rather harshly. His drills weren’t cruel, but he certainly didn’t have a sense of mercy either. He pounded, sometimes literally, defensive techniques into all of them. They were facing a pack of alphas. And going on the offensive, even if they outnumbered them, would’ve been tantamount to suicide.

They’d have to work in groups. Taking down one alpha at a time. Making sure that it was either Laura or Derek that delivered the killing blow. Less one of the betas become an alpha, and create more shit were there wasn’t any. Scott still wasn’t keen on the idea of killing anyone. Neither was Stiles.

He had finally broken down and told his friends about what had happened with the hunters. Towards the end, where Derek had found him. And saved him. That he had, in self-defense, killed two of them. And let the rest who weren’t able to run away, be taken care of by Derek and his betas.

No one said anything. No one made any comments. They just cried. Cried at the realization of what Stiles had to do in order to survive. And that it had, not for the better, changed him forever. Scott hugs him fiercely. Lydia doesn’t. Jackson just rests a hand on his shoulder. Thing needed to get better.

They didn’t. Derek had been drilling and drilling them. Until they were ready to collapse with exhaustion. Stiles, with minimal use of his magic, was able to adequately defend himself. But these were drills. There was no telling what would happen with these alphas showed up, fully shifted, and ready to murder the lot of them. As it turned out, that’s exactly what they intended to do.

He knew something was wrong the moment they crossed onto the property, past the talismans. He felt his magic scream and hiss and dance. Every part of him said that something was wrong. This time around, he didn’t have to wait to see what the others reactions would be. They knew and felt something was amiss as well.

They’re all outside before the first of them breaks through the tree line. Stiles feels his face go pale and his skin cold. His spine locks into place like iron, and he’s unable to move. The one at the front is fucking huge. Easily pushing six five, and at least two hundred sixty pounds of solid muscle. He made Derek look small by comparison.

The woman beside him is…She as unsettling as the twins. But in a more intimate way. She smiles like a cat that’s cornered a mouse. That horrible, twisted smile a predator gives its prey before it strikes. Stiles doesn’t have to ask. She’s a murderer, through and through.

The twins are the same as ever. Stone faced, and this time around, Stiles could feel their intent to kill rather clearly. Which made no sense, given that they were in range of the talismans power. They should’ve been barely able to stand. Let along approach the house if the intended to harm anyone present.

The answer came from the final man. His eyes were shielded by pitch black sunglasses, but Stiles knew. He was the leader of this so called alpha pack. He was the one that had sent the twins. He was the one that wanted Laura or Derek to join them. This was Deucalion.

There was little doubt of why the other alphas answered to him. He walked and the earth beneath him seemed to tremble in fear. Stiles felt his magic pull at his legs. Trying, desperately, to make him run. To make him be anywhere but here. Derek laced his fingers through the other man’s, giving some semblance of hope and comfort. It was marginally successful.

“Good to see you’ve taken the time to assemble everyone. This will go quickly then.”

“You’re not welcome here.” Laura’s voice was firm and unflinching. She was invoking her right as one of the masters of the house. She was trying to use the talismans. They weren’t working.

“Shame, Ethan and Aiden told me about the magic they felt when they came those few weeks ago. Needless to say, I found a suitable countermeasure.”

Stiles knew that someone had been helping Deucalion. Werewolves couldn’t do magic. Not like Stiles could. Their powers were for changing their shape. Stiles’ were for pushing outwards, to affect the world around him. Deucalion, somehow, had gotten a magic user to make him and the other alphas immune to the effects of the talismans.

“I know you’re pack, but I don’t believe that I’ve had the pleasure of meeting the one of the back. The doe eyed boy, with the crooked jaw. Or so Ethan says.” Scott looks like he’s either ready to run, or to flay Ethan alive. Neither of which seemed like a good idea.

Deucalion made the move to get closer, when Stiles moved first. Derek didn’t say anything. Didn’t try to follow him. He, as of right now, trusted Stiles. And things weren’t going to get any better if Stiles didn’t trust himself. His magic was strong. He was strong. He was going to live.

“I’m Scott’s emissary, nice to meet you.” Stiles did not extend his hand for the man to shake. If anything, he didn’t even want to be this close to the man to begin with. There was something about him that felt….unclean.

“Ethan also mentioned you. You’ve got quite the alpha. And quite the power. I’ve heard of people such as yourself, but never had the pleasure of meeting one.” Deucalion raises his hand, as if to caress Stiles’ face. The young magic user takes three steps back. Just out of the alpha’s reach. He smiled more viciously than the woman.

“As Laura said, you and yours are not welcome here. We’d like you to leave.” There was just a touch of fear in his voice. But he meant what he said. Derek had his claws out now. Stiles didn’t need to turn around to see that much. He just knew.

“Ah, yes. But I’ve come here for my prize, and I’m not leaving without it. If Derek or Laura do not desire to join me, so be it. Your alpha should do as a reasonable substitute. Until other arrangements can be made.”

Stiles felt all the hair on his body stand on end. Scott growled low in his throat, and he knew that this was seconds away from coming to blows. That there was going to be a fight. Deucalion had a vague idea of how powerful he was. But this wasn’t the type of man that was frightened. Stiles wondered if he’d even felt fear in his life.

The woman takes a more firm stance, and the twins haven’t moved an inch. The behemoth is partially shifted, and Stiles knows that if he lunges, he won’t be able to dodge at this distance. Not the he’d need to. But it certainly wouldn’t be a good idea to try and run from him.

He didn’t have the time to even think about what he did. Because the behemoth of a man did lunge. Fangs and claws out. Eyes blaring red. Stiles’ magic had already decided to have a backup plan. The man hits and invisible wall of pure force. And ends up being repelled, ten yards away. Slamming into a tree. Which then snaps in half as the man collapses to the ground, unconscious.

The predator woman moves to strike, when she’s caught off guard by the twins. Who’ve fused into some horrible alpha monster. It’s somehow bigger than the behemoth man, as if that was even remotely possible to consider. They bury their claws in the woman’s shoulder, using the other hand to break her spine. She falls down like a marionette that’s had its strings cut.

Stiles’ magic is still on alert, and so is Deucalion. The man’s skins turns ashen grey, and Stiles can feel the man’s intent to murder him. He doesn’t have the chance. Derek roars out his challenge, as well as Laura and Scott. The three of them charge. And Stiles decides not to make it necessary.

Deucalion tries to close the minimal distance. Either to kill Stiles, or to use him as bait. He doesn’t get the chance. As the alpha is on the ground, pressed by a plank of violent magical energy. It ripples around him in harsh waves. Stiles can feel his magic tingle in the tips of his fingers. He can taste blood in his mouth.

“Alpha pack or not, you were asked to leave.” Deucalion roars. It’s not a sound a werewolf would’ve made. It was something else entirely. The man tried desperately to shake the magic that was pinning him down. Trying to break out of a bond that he could not see. Stiles felt it crack at the edges. Then, there was a crack from the tree lines. Almost silent, but Stiles knew it was the telltale sign of a gun being fired.

Chris Argent had not changed one bit since Stiles had last saw him. He was still gruff looking, and the Desert Eagle he held was still smoking. Deucalion, now dead, was limp on the ground. Parts of his skull and brain were splattered on the ground.

Everyone was shocked, as they had stopped charging. Derek had his eyes trained solely on Chris. Not because he considered him an enemy. But because he knew the man. There was a glint of recognition there. Stiles would make a note to ask later. There were more pertinent things to attend to. Namely, the behemoth man had gotten back up, and was ready to kill everyone.

He didn’t get the chance. As two arrows sailed through the air. One landing squarely in his chest. Nailing him right in the heart. The other, in the front of his neck. He stumbles for a moment, eyes flickering between alpha red and his human brown. When he goes down, Stiles knows that he will not get back up again.

The twins had unfused themselves, and were sufficiently aware that there were now two hunters with their weapons drawn. Stiles motioned for Chris and Allison to stand down. The two hunters gave him a puzzled look, but did so regardless. They’d won. Somehow, even with Deucalion negating his magic, they’d won. And Stiles was afraid.

He had, for the most part, disabled them singlehandedly. His magic was powerful enough to overcome these monster alphas. And that terrified him. It terrified him because now he had a better idea of what he could do. Which was, as it turned out, was exactly as Deaton had said.

Derek comes up from behind him. Wrapping his arms around the other man’s middle. Gently removing him from the scene. Stiles feels his stomach turn, and he vomits as Derek pulls him inside. He was reliving the worst parts of his powers.

Even though he had not, either directly, or indirectly, killed anyone, he felt that the air was too thin. That his chest was being constricted. That everything seemed fuzzy and out of focus. It had been a while since he’d had a panic attack. He doesn’t remember them fondly.

After things settled down, they learn exactly as to what the fuck had happened. As it turned out, the twins had long since been looking for a way to be rid of Deucalion. As well as the others. They only followed the man as he’d helped them escape their abusive alpha. Which involved killing him, and all the betas that had enabled the abuse.

They’d thought they were free. But as it turned out, Deucalion had other plans. He was never outright abusive to Ethan and Aiden. But he certainly made it clear that they belonged to him. And that they would do as they were told. The woman and the behemoth had a taste for murder and mayhem. They did not.

As to why Chris and Allison were present, they had Scott to thank for that. He’d let slip some of the details of their situation. And, by happenstance, they had already been seeking out Deucalion. As he was responsible for quite a number of deaths. Werewolves, humans, and hunters alike. There were multiple parties that wanted him dead.

There was a lingering degree of tension, even with the matter settled. The twins departed, saying nothing. They wanted their freedom. And they’d used Stiles and the others to get it. The magic user couldn’t be mad at them. They had few options. All of them shitty. They’d taken the best one they could see.

Derek and Laura made it very clear that they were to leave and never come back. The both of them silently agreed and departed without any further incident. The matter of Chris was something else entirely. The sibling alphas did not care for his presence, and as Stiles suspected, there was a previous inclination that the pack and the hunter had.

He didn’t press the matter. Stiles knew Derek, and if he wanted to talk, he would. Right now, no one wanted to talk. They wanted to figure out what to do with the bodies of three dead alphas. And then, pass out in bed. As they were all exhausted.

Stiles had already done a fair bit of that. His magic had tired him. That, coupled with his panic attack, and he didn’t sleep, so much was he collapsed. Derek never left his side after the fact. He was a warm, stone firm embrace. There wasn’t anything that needed to be said between them. Stiles just enjoyed the alphas arms wrapped around him while he had the chance.

When he wakes, Derek is asleep. Face relaxed with slumber. Legs tossed over Stiles, arms still wrapped firmly around his center. He had absolutely no desire to move. But he also had to pee. Extracting himself was a grueling, arduous task. As he didn’t want to wake up his boyfriend.

It was a strange thing to think about, having a boyfriend. There was so much going on, and so much more that was to come. But, at the end of the day, he had a boyfriend. A damn hot, alpha werewolf boyfriend. Stiles smiled to himself.

When he gets back, Derek is awake. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Stiles chuckles at the sight of it. He offers to go and get them something to eat. Instead, he finds himself gently pressed into the wall. Derek kissing him like it had been days since they’d even seen each other. Stiles wasn’t complaining.

“Stay.” There was a certain authority in Derek’s voice. But he wasn’t commanding Stiles as if he were one of the betas. He was asking.

“Okay. I promised I was gonna come back.” Derek doesn’t say anything. Instead, he kisses Stiles and kisses him some more.

The young magic user lets his hand find their way to Derek’s shoulders. And then, to his neck. Gently sliding his palm over the man’s Adam apple. Derek growls, eyes flashing red. But he doesn’t stop, and Stiles takes it as a sign that he enjoys it. Even more so when the alpha grabs a handful of his crotch.

Stiles bites back a sound of surprise. Trying, desperately, not to sound like an overexcited virgin. Derek presses his knees in-between Stiles legs, forcing them further apart. He keeps a firm hold on his cock, but not so much that it hurt.

“Fuck, Stiles. I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

“Is that so?” Stiles let his voice drip with velvet. Rutting up into Derek’s grip.

“I wanted to take you, right there in the yard. My wolf was howling at me to. To claim you.”

“Really, just the wolf? And what does the wolf want?” Derek kissed him. He kissed him and their teeth clacked together and the man growled so loud that Stiles felt it in his chest.

“I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you into the mattress until you can’t breathe. Until you know that you’re mine. And that no one else will ever come near you again.”

“Possessive, aren’t you. I actually like the sound of that. Is there anything else you’d like to do, big guy?”

Derek doesn’t answer him. Instead, he pulls at Stiles’ pants. Ripping the button and yanking them down, along with his underwear. Stiles’ cock sprang free, smacking him in the belly. Leaving a smear of precome on his happy trail. Derek swiped it up with his finger, tasting while looking Stiles dead in the face.

“Fuck, Derek. You certainly know what you want, don’t you?”

“What I want, right now, is your cock in my mouth.” Stiles doesn’t even have time to agree with the man. As he drops to his knees, taking his balls into his mouth. Gentling rolling them around with his tongue.

“Fuck….Derek…..If I’d known you were this keen, I would’ve insisted we do this a long time ago.”

“Be quiet.” The alpha nips at the side of thigh. Sending a small, shrill shriek through Stiles in the best way possible.

“You can make me shut up all you want, Sourwolf.”

“Fuck, Stiles. You’re big. After I fuck you, you gonna have to fuck me with this cock. Make me yours.”

Once again, Stiles doesn’t have time to agree. Derek takes his cock into mouth. Burying him down to the hilt. Pressing his nose right down to the tuft of hair at his groin. He grabs the alpha’s hair. Not pulling, but trying to find purchase. Derek hums his approval. Urging Stiles on.

There were a lot of fantasies that Stiles had imagined when he thought about his first time. Face fucking a hot alpha werewolf didn’t factor into any of them. But he was happy to oblige his boyfriend’s eagerness.

He starts slowly, with little short thrusts. When he feels Derek’s claws biting into the meat of his ass, he knows that he won’t last long. The alpha continues to take every inch of him into his mouth. Slobbering and sucking and moaning. Stiles feels his toes start to curl, and his spine tingle.

When he comes, Derek buries his face back down, taking every last inch of his cock and every last drop of his come. Stiles almost buckles over from the sheer force of it. Derek holds him steady, and milks every last drop.

He doesn’t have time to think before the alpha is standing back up. Pinning Stiles’ hands above his head. Kissing him like a many desperate for air. At some point, the alpha had taken his own pants off. And was now rutting his rock hard cock against Stiles’ thigh.

He didn’t have a chance to see what Derek looked like below the belt. Which he found somewhat unfair. But from the feel of it, he was thick and uncut. Which made Stiles’ mouth water at the idea of tasting him.

“Fuck….I can’t….Don’t wanna hurt you.” There was more than just a twinge of the wolf in Derek’s voice.

“It’s okay, let go big guy. There’s no rush. Besides, I like it. You out of control.”

Derek latches his teeth, now fangs, onto Stiles’ throat. But he does not bite. He just holds him there while he rusts against the other man. His cock sliding easily across Stiles thigh. Breathing becoming erratic and uneven. When he comes, the alpha shudders, spilling onto Stiles’ leg and groin. His teeth never leaving the other man’s neck.

“That was….”

“We’re like a bunch of freshmen at a party.” Stiles smiled and kissed Derek.

“Next time, we go slower. And I’ll taste your hole along with your cock.”

Stiles was still hard, and now was already leaking precome again at the idea of Derek rimming him. They kissed and kissed until their legs went numb. Derek liked Stiles clean as they headed towards the shower. Which ended up with Derek back on his knees. This time, he came just from blowing Stiles. Which he found immensely hot. There was a lot of things he wanted to try. And plenty of time to try them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always enjoy a little bit of smut. It wasn't pivotal to the plot in any way, but it was a fun way to end the story. Thanks for reading, and as always, much love.

**Author's Note:**

> When I write longer fics with longer chapters, there can be a lot that goes on. Hopefully, that wasn't too much at once. Thanks for reading, and as always much love. PS- I don't know how long it'll take me to write the second chapter, but I appreciate your guys' patience.


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